


Changing Our Stars

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alliances, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Brotherly Love, Careers (Hunger Games), District 1, District 11, District 12, District 2, District 3 (Hunger Games), District 4, District 5, District 7, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mentions of dub-con, Non-Canon Relationship, Romance, The Arena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: When Peeta is lost at the end of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games, the Districts still threaten to rise up and President Snow wants blood. Only it isn't Katniss' blood that interests him. He wants to see her suffer first. When she is forced to mentor both Prim and Gale in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, she learns that there are more things that matter to her than she thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hunger Games fanfic. My fiance actually came up with the prompt: Katniss and Peeta were in the 73rd Hunger Games instead of the 74th and Peeta dies even with the stunt with the berries. Katniss is forced to mentor Prim and Gale.

I lean back against the rocks and let the sun warm my face, seeking the last moments of peace before I'm thrown into hell once more. It is Reaping Day and I have the strangest sense of déjà vu. It's so similar to last year but yet nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same again because now the dread that fills me is not the same one that every other citizen of District 12 between the ages of twelve and eighteen is experiencing. I am safe from the reaping this year and every year after, not because I have aged out of it but because I am now a victor. 

No, my dread is not over the possibility of my own name being drawn. It stems from the knowledge that this year I will be expected to mentor the girl whose name does get called out in Effie Trinket's too-cheerful voice. I have spent the last year looking in the face of every girl I pass and wondering if she will be the one. District 12 has had exactly two victors in the last twenty-four years. The odds that we will have another this year are somewhere between slim and none. I will be forced to get to know this girl, to do my best to teach her, and to watch her die. Some days, I understand why Haymitch drinks.

A rustle behind me has me drawing my bow and Gale holds up a hand. "Easy, Catnip," he says. "It's just me."

I should have known he would come. I should have known he would sense my dread. Not for the first time, I wish that I had taken him up on the idea of running away into the woods. He takes a seat beside me and this, too, is familiar. It is how we sat a year ago on the day of the reaping for the Seventy-Third Hunger Games. Before my name was drawn. Before Peeta's name was drawn. Before he announced his love for me to Panem and we were maneuvered into teaming up in the arena. Before the berries that, in the end, did not save him after all. Before I became an enemy of the state. 

I still don't understand the feelings I held for Peeta in the arena and after, it was too late and examining them seemed pointless. He was gone, dead from the wound given to him by the mutt that looked like our fellow tribute after the Capitol doctors either failed or neglected to save him. His death had done me no favors. I still wake up screaming with his name on my lips, my fists beating helplessly against glass that isn't really there, the sound of the long, steady beep of machinery announcing his end ringing in my ears. President Snow believes that my act of rebellion with the berries had been deliberate and calculated. Some of the districts, it seems, do as well. Peeta was the one with the silver tongue, the one who could make the world fall at his feet with a word and a smile. Without him, I don't know how to convince them that our love story was real. I can't even convince myself. 

There are uprisings that I could not quell in the districts and my job had been to prevent all-out rebellions. From the cold look in President Snow's eyes, I can only assume that I failed. I have all but resigned myself to my death. I don't know when it will come or how. It could be a public execution. It could be a convenient accident. I can only hope that my sister, mother, and Gale are not taken down with me when it happens. 

We leave the woods and I return home to help prepare Prim. Her name was called last year and I volunteered in her stead. She is afraid but I think it is more for me. She knows I will have to go back to the Capitol with this year's tributes and will not return until after the Games. She is still not convinced that I won't end up back in the arena myself. I know that won't happen but a part of me has the same fear. I give last-minute instructions to my mother before we leave. Once I mount the stage with Haymitch, I won't see them again until I come home. Fortunately, I don't have to worry about their well-being this year. Our house in the Victor's Village is luxurious and my mother manages my winnings from the Games. There is more than enough money to keep them fed while I'm away. It's Gale's family that concerns me. He struggles to make ends meet when hunting alone and won't accept my money even though I have more than enough. I tell my mother to sneak it to Hazelle, his mother, instead. She nods in understanding and we begin our trek to the square in front of the Justice Building.

Haymitch is waiting for me and I'm surprised he's upright. The bleakness that never leaves his eyes is there in full force and he reeks of white liquor. I can't say I blame him at the moment. A part of me wishes I could be drunk, too. Someone will have to stay sober to mentor the tributes this year and I somehow doubt Haymitch will be able to rally himself the second year in a row. He knows as well as I do that the odds are never truly in our favor. "Ready, sweetheart?" he asks and his voice is almost gentle.

"As I'll ever be," I say and take a deep breath before mounting the steps.

Effie catches my eye as I reach the stage and smiles at me as if she's seeing an old friend. She pointedly ignores Haymitch. I try to return her smile because I still remember how heartbroken she was when Peeta didn't make it. She was inconsolable until Haymitch reminded her about our schedule and she had to pull herself together. I doubt she would have been as upset had it been me who'd died and Peeta who'd lived but he always had been her favorite and it did at least serve to show that there was something human beneath the gaudy wigs and ostentatious makeup. 

I tune out the event, not caring about the history of the country or the Games, unwilling to listen as it is touted as a celebratory event, and my eyes scan the crowd. I see Gale and his unshakable presence steadies me. My mother is tight-lipped. Prim is shaking a bit but her head is high. Reassured that they are all okay, I look over the gathered girls. One of these girls is about to have her world turned upside down and shattered. 

I don't have much time to wonder which one it will be because Effie is crossing to the ball with her customary chirp of, "Ladies first!" Her hand reaches in and her long fingernails glitter through the crystal of the bowl as she circles her fingers and draws out a slip at random. My eyes fix on the rectangle of white paper sealed with the single black strip. She flutters back to the microphone and the rip of the tape and rustle of paper as she unfolds it seems unnaturally loud in the silence. I am wondering if the microphone amplified the sound when she glances over her shoulder at me and my stomach gives a hard flip as my heart stops. 

The connection lasts only a second but the bottomless well of pity tells me whose name has been drawn even before she announces it. I feel Haymitch's hand grab mine and I don't know if it's for support or restraint. Either way, he doesn't let go and when Effie says solemnly, "Primrose Everdeen," I am struck again by that sense of déjà vu because once more I am frozen as my sister moves silently through the crowd until I catch her eyes and then I am lurching to my feet and Haymitch's arms are coming around me as I scream, "No!" There is nothing else I can do. I am a victor. I cannot volunteer for her again. We have no other siblings to take her place. The odds are certainly not in our favor. And then I hear as if from a distance Effie Trinket's voice call out again and this time it is firm because she doesn't know, can't know, that the boy whose name she's called is the only other person left in the world that I truly care about. "Gale Hawthorne." 

This cannot be a coincidence. It has to be contrived and I wonder if there are any other names in those bowls at all. And that is when I know that this is my punishment. It is not my life that Snow will take. I am not the one in danger here. He won't kill me directly. He will force me to mentor and then watch as the two people in this world whose lives I value above my own fight and die in my own personal hell. As I stood last year to die in Prim's place, this year they stand to die in mine. It is my fault. My fault. My fault. I curse those damned berries and President Snow and the Capitol and the Gamemakers and Panem itself and I vow that, whether they live or die, I will make it my mission to bring it all down.


	2. Chapter 2

Haymitch and I are not allowed to go to the tributes yet. We will be with them every moment until we say goodbye the morning of the Games. This time belongs to the families and Haymitch does his best to point out to me that I cannot be their family anymore. I am their mentor. If I want to give them any chance at surviving, I must focus on that. I can't do it, though. I can't look at Prim and not see my little sister. I can't look at Gale and not see my best friend. Surprisingly, it is Effie I turn to behind the scenes because she has come to adore Prim and because I could tell she didn't want to read her name.

The three of us board the train and wait. I am still screaming inside but I must pull it together. Prim will be terrified and she'll be looking to me for comfort. I can't let her see her death in my eyes. I can't let her know that I know that I cannot save her. I have to be strong for her. Likewise, I can no longer lean on Gale. This time, it's him who will be facing his death and it's me who needs to be strong, to remind him that it's just like hunting, and hope that the difference doesn't destroy something in him the way it did me. If it had only been Gale, I wouldn't have worried that much. He's just as smart as me, he's strong, he's a good hunter. He's the male version of me and if I could win then he could, too. But it won't just be Gale and I know that he will do everything in his power to keep Prim alive. She will be his greatest weakness and I know that I am going to lose them both.

I am sufficiently composed when the doors open and Prim runs in and throws herself into my arms. I wrap them protectively around her as if I can shield her from the things to come and then Gale is there as well and his arms are around me and his lips are pressed up against my hair. He holds us both, trying to protect us, and I breathe in the scent of him and squeeze my eyes tightly shut as I try to imagine that he is strong enough to keep them both alive. 

We break away when Effie comes in. Gale doesn't know her, so I introduce him while Prim gives her a shy hug. Gale sits between Haymitch and me and Prim tucks up on my other side as the Capitol workers begin to lay out the meal. Gale ignores the food and says to me, "Well, I guess you're going to have to talk about it after all."

I haven't spoken of the Games to anyone. I know they saw it just like everyone else in Panem but watching it and living it are completely different things. I didn't know how to explain it to Gale and I didn't want Prim to ever have to know. I wanted to shelter her but that stopped being an option the moment that paper left the bowl. She will have to grow up fast because the gentle little girl who cries when I bring down game in the woods won't last through the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. I don’t know what I can teach Gale that he doesn't already know or can't figure out himself as I did. 

"I guess I will," I say reluctantly. "But first, let's eat." 

"I don't want it," Gale says, sneering at the Capitol food. I understand his mindset but there's no room for that here. 

"Eat," I say firmly. 

He sighs but obeys and I turn to Prim and force a smile. "Look," I say, pointing to the plates in front of us. "Remember that lamb stew I told you about? The one that was my favorite? This is it. Try it. Oh! And the hot chocolate. It's really good on your biscuits. And you just have to taste the orange juice. You're going to love it!" 

There will be time enough for talk of death and killing and survival. We haven't been truly hungry in a year but there are still delicacies which Prim has never gotten to experience. It will hurt nothing to give her a few hours to enjoy the finer things that she has missed out on growing up in the Seam and I am determined to soak up every smile I can give her, every moment of joy, because I know that these are her final days and these memories will be the ones I revisit most often as I lie in the dark and wonder what I could have done differently to have given her a better chance to survive. I had thought in the arena that I'd needed to use my wits. Keeping Prim alive will take every bit of my intelligence, creativity, determination, and skill and, in the end, it will be up to Gale to save her. There is no question in my mind that he would. I would do the same for Rory or Posey, his little brother and sister. 

When the meal is over and we are all full, I turn to them and repeat one of Haymitch's first pieces of advice to me. "We'll be pulling into the station soon. When we get there, you're going to be turned over to your prep team. You do whatever they want you to. No matter what they ask, don't resist. Prim, you remember Octavia, Venia, and Flavius?" They had come to our house in District 12 for the victory tour and she had met them then. She nods. "They'll take care of you, okay? Don't be scared. They know you. They're going to love you. And then you'll go to Cinna." She nods again, smiling a little now because she's sort of gotten to know Cinna through me given all the time I've spent on the phone with him prepping 'my' talent. I turn to Gale. "Portia has a good head on her shoulders. She and Cinna make a good team. Trust her. And try not to hate your prep team too much."

"That's not going to happen," he says darkly. 

"Gale," I admonish. "They don't know. They don't get it."

He tosses his napkin on the table and glares at me. "What part don't they get, Katniss? The part where they're dressing us up to die?"

I sigh. I don't know how to explain it to him. There's a part of me that feels the same way but I think about how happy my preps were when I came back from the arena and how respectful they were to my mother before the victory tour and I know I have to try. "It isn't the same in the Capitol as it is in the districts," I say. "It isn't real to them in the same way. We come in and we're there for a little while and they watch it happen on a screen and then the winner goes home. It's like...meeting a celebrity and then watching them on television. They don't live with the aftermath that makes it real. They aren't afraid to send their kids in because they don't have to. It's ignorance, not malice. They care in their own way."

We reach the Remake Center and I turn Gale over to Portia's team as Venia, Octavius, and Flavius flitter in to retrieve Prim. They see the look she casts over her shoulder and all but trip over each other to reassure her that they will take care of her and she will see me soon. Octavia pats her cheek and Venia takes her by the hand. Prim smiles shyly up at them and something tight in my chest relaxes slightly. They love her now because she is mine. They'll come to love her because she is her. She's in good hands for now.

Cinna and Portia are waiting for Haymitch and me and for the first time, I see what goes on behind the scenes. Cinna greets me with a hug and a whispered, 'I'm so sorry, Katniss,' before pulling back and telling us that they've been working on their approach since the names were called at the Reaping. They believe that distancing them from me will do nothing to protect Gale and Prim so, instead, they will play up their link to me. The contestants will already know it, so it does no good to try to downplay it with them, but in terms of sponsors, it can only help. 

The districts may not have bought my love story but the Capitol residents ate it up and they love me. In their minds, I will be the girl who has already lost so much and the idea that both my best friend and the sister I volunteered to save are now at risk is going to drive them to distraction. Once again, I must play a part though my performance won't be for the cameras this year but for the sponsors themselves. I must be both tragic and fiercely protective and I am grateful that this, at least, will be easy. 

Gale and Prim just have to be themselves. Cinna is going to focus on Prim's delicacy, her innocence, her youth, all of the aspects that made Rue's death so horrific and I don't know if I can stand it but I must admit that it's brilliant, especially if we can do like Rue and get her a decent training score. Gale will be fierce, angry, the big brother in all but blood, a dangerous opponent because he has far more to lose than all the rest. If they are targeting him, they are more likely to leave her alone. There seems to be an unspoken understanding that it is Prim we must actually work to save. 

While Cinna and Portia are working their magic, Haymitch and I review the day's reaping. We study the tributes, weighing their strengths and weaknesses, building our strategy around those we feel are the greatest dangers. It gives me something to do other than to simply be afraid. I have a sense that I am actively working to protect them and I think that is how Haymitch plans to keep me sane because he must. 

Finally, he turns to me and says, "Look, most of this is going to fall on you. They trust you and will listen to you better than they will to me. The public, the sponsors, the people of the Capitol are going to demand that you be the one taking the lead. They're going to want to experience every bit of your pain right along with you. They're going to force you to drag it out into the light and let them look at it and you're going to have to let them if we're going to give either one of them a chance to survive this. That said, we've gotta be honest about their chances." 

"Prim isn't going to make it," I whisper.

He gives me a sad smile and says, "No, sweetheart. She probably isn't. Gale might, though. So I'm going to be doing some of his training separately. We won't do anything to endanger Prim but there are considerations I don't think you're going to be able to handle and he's going to need to be prepared if...when...his job stops being about protecting her."

"When she's dead, you mean," I say.

He nods. "If he doesn't end up dying for her, he'll have a real chance to get home. We need to do everything we can to make that possible and I don't think you can deliberately work to bring him home instead of Prim while she's still alive so I'll do it for you. Okay?"

"Thanks, Haymitch," I say. He's right and I know I should be appreciative. If Prim does die...when Prim dies...if he's still alive, I'm going to want him home. I'm going to need him home. But it feels disloyal to plan for that, like I've given up hope on Prim already, so I can't be the one to do it. Once again, he's shown that he really does understand me.

We meet Gale and Prim at the chariots for the opening ceremonies and I draw in a quick breath, unsure of which one is more astounding. Prim is dressed in yellow but this is not the yellow of sunlight. It is a yellow shot through with oranges and reds and blues that shimmer when she moves. Her hair is plaited in twin braids over her shoulders and the ribbon that rests on her crown matches the dress. Her makeup is soft, full of pale pinks and delicate lines that accentuate the gentle curves of her face. She looks painfully young and heartbreakingly delicate, especially beside Gale. She is another girl on fire but hers is candlelight.

Gale looks even bigger than normal beside her. If she is candlelight, he is an explosion in the mines. Her dress hints of a single dancing wick. His outfit roils and I half expect him to reach out and consume me. Above his black trousers is a tunic that reaches to mid-thigh and looks almost three-dimensional. When he turns, the inferno roils with him. I have no idea how Cinna has done it but I am almost as afraid to touch him as I was over the prospect of Peeta's and my lit capes. I remind Prim to smile and wave and Gale takes her hand and helps her up into the chariot. My sister's fingers are white but she looks up at Gale with an expression of complete and utter trust as he glowers at the scene before him. It is this image the audience sees of them first as the horses carry them into the sunlight and they go wild.


	3. Chapter 3

There are ultimately only two types of people in the arena: predators and prey. Gale is, of course, the former and Prim is undoubtedly the latter. I can’t train Gale to survive once Prim is gone but I must train Prim to stay alive without him. It won’t be easy. I know already that I cannot turn her into a predator but I do reflect that even rabbits have sharp teeth and will bite. 

I tell her to focus on skills that will help her escape rather than retaliate if she is attacked. Without Gale, she will be the hunted and her only hope is to stay out of the reach of the predators. I am glad that I have at least taught her to climb trees and I hope there are some in the arena. Though it hurts, I sit with her and we watch Rue. It is her strategy that Prim will have to emulate if she finds herself alone. I make sure that she pays close attention to Foxface as well. Last year’s tribute from District 5 might have beaten us all if she hadn’t fallen prey to Peeta’s berries. Prim isn’t strong and she isn’t a fighter but she’s smart and clever and that will have to be her strength.

Haymitch tells me that he’s instructed Gale to think like the careers if he finds himself alone in the arena. Gale can be incredibly gentle and he has honor but there’s a hot core inside of him that will serve him well if he decides to go on the offense. Where I fit no archetype, Gale’s simmering rage that is so similar to mine is acceptable in a boy and it is this that Haymitch chooses to focus on and draw out. He is fierce where I simply looked angry and sullen.

I had not realized just how much Haymitch, Cinna, Portia, and even Effie had done for us. I’d known that they had worked hard to keep us alive but I hadn’t seen the extent of their efforts. We work tirelessly from dawn until late at night to do everything we can in advance to prepare our tributes for what they are about to face. I like it, though. I feel productive and it keeps me from thinking too hard about the fact that my sister, my Little Duck, is about to go into the place of nightmares without me there to shelter her. Here, at least, there are things I can do. I expect that I will probably go insane once she’s actually inside the arena. 

Their first day of training goes well and, by the time it is over, Haymitch and I have been approached by several other mentors whose tributes have instructed them to request an alliance with Gale. I turn down Cashmere from District One and Brutus from District Two without hesitation but consider the offer from District 11 because of Rue and Thresh. I think that Eleven is my favorite of the other districts. Their male mentor is a close friend of Haymitch’s and the female is soft-spoken and kind and reminds me of my mother. However, there is only one person I trust with Prim. Had Rue been this year’s tribute, I would have accepted immediately but I am uncertain of these two. 

District Four’s mentor, Finnick Odair, comes to me directly with his offer. I am tempted to reject him on principle as Four is part of the career pack and I don’t want either Prim or Gale anywhere near them. Finnick’s arrogant swagger and cocky presentation don’t help his case much, either. He’s a peacock and I dislike him on sight but Haymitch urges me to consider the offer. He points out that Finnick is a Capitol darling and in his own Games when he was just fourteen, brought in the most expensive gift ever seen in the arena. It was a silver trident and had been given to him toward the end when even the price of a cracker is exorbitant. 

He consistently manages to pull pricey gifts from sponsors for his tributes and, while I suspect his methods for obtaining those gifts are less than savory given his reputation, tributes who are in alliances tend to share their gifts. Teaming up with Four could help Prim and ease the load on Gale. He will simply have to be able to read when the other tributes are about to turn and remember that trust in the arena only goes so far. If the tributes from Four are willing to break off from the regular career pack, an alliance could mean the difference between life and death for both Prim and Gale so I tell him we’ll consider the offer. 

I have to figure out how much of my reluctance is based on keeping Prim and Gale safe and how much of it is due to the mentor in question. Finnick is unquestionably handsome but his attitude leaves a lot to be desired. I’ve seen him on television every year since his Games. He really is a Capitol sweetheart. Every time he’s shown, he’s on the arm of a different person, both male and female. He never lacks for dates, he never stays the night, and he never accompanies the same person twice. He’s a playboy and that offends my more modest sensibilities. It isn’t enough reason to deny his offer if it could help my sister and my friend, though. 

That evening, Haymitch and I sit down with Gale and Prim and present the offer to them. They have spent more time with the other tributes than I have and both of them are good at reading people. Prim defers to us but it isn’t an outright no. Gale considers it for a long time before nodding. I look at Haymitch and then back at Gale and say, “You’ll have to be careful. Alliances are short-term. Once the Career pack is taken care of, it usually becomes everyone for himself unless there’s someone outside of them that’s considered a threat. This year, that’s you. The minute the last career is dead, they’ll turn on you and they’ll probably try to use Prim to do it. And if they think they stand a better chance against you with them, they’ll kill you both and switch sides. You can’t let your guard down around them even if they are your allies.”

“I know,” he says. “I’ve watched the Games. I’ve seen alliances break. But I can’t take on the entire field and keep Prim safe by myself.”

“We need to talk about the Cornucopia,” Haymitch says. “Last year, I kept Katniss and Peeta away from the initial bloodbath because neither of them could handle it. You can if we can figure out a way to keep Prim out.”

“I could hide,” Prim says. “I’m almost as fast as Katniss. No one’s going to be worried about me. I could run like she did and hide.”

“If there’s somewhere to hide,” I point out. “We don’t know what the terrain is going to be like. We’ll need contingency plans.”

We discuss their strategy throughout dinner. Where last year, Haymitch and Effie had been relentless, this year it is Haymitch, Effie, and me who are of one mind and determined to whip both Prim and Gale into shape. I try to rein in my intensity with Prim but she seems to understand that it’s driven by fear for her and simply listens intently. When we finally allow them to go to bed, I am unsurprised to see Prim slip into my room again. She rarely sleeps alone at home where she feels safe. I haven’t expected her to do so here. And, honestly, I’m glad. I can count on my fingers the number of days I have left with her and at night, at least, I feel like I can keep her safe. 

For the first time, I wonder how our mother is faring without us. Prim seems just as reluctant to talk about her as I do but I know she’s worried, too. I can keep my mother from starving while we’re away but I can do nothing for the grief I know she feels. At least last year, she had Prim to keep her going. The idea of her wandering around alone in that big, empty house in the abandoned Victor’s Village so far from the center of town makes my heart clench and I hope that her friends are there to support her.

The next day is much the same as the one before it. Gale and Prim train. Haymitch and I strategize. Cinna and Portia work on their designs. Effie goes out and tries to talk up our story and rally support. I wonder if she’s still using the pearl analogy that entertained Peeta and me so much last year but I can’t figure out a way to ask without hurting her feelings. For some reason, it’s me Haymitch sends to deal with Finnick.

I find him in the Training Center lobby, talking to the mentor from District Seven. The dark-haired woman gives me a dismissive look and flounces off with a wave to Finnick. He leans back against a counter and gives me a cocky smile. “So, girl on fire, have you made a decision?”

“Fire and water cancel each other out, you know,” I say peevishly. District Four is on the coast and one of their primary exports is fish. They’re associated with water in the same way that we in Twelve are associated with fire. 

“Not always,” he says smoothly. “Sometimes fire and water can be very…cooperative.”

I don’t bother to hide my shudder. I don’t even want to think of the idea of…cooperating…with Finnick Odair. However, we’ve decided on an alliance and I can’t risk making him too angry, so I say, “Let’s discuss terms.”

He nods and turns serious, something I hadn’t realized he could do. “Angus and Dahlia are prepared to eschew the career pack and ally with your sister as well. Haymitch said you wouldn’t consider it otherwise. Our tributes join up, share their sponsor gifts, watch each other’s backs, and fight together. Once the careers go down, the alliance is over. Angus is good with a spear and Dahlia can net anything. What do yours have to offer?”

“Gale can hunt,” I say. That’s common knowledge. “Prim’s small but she’s good at healing.”

He considers this and says, “All right. Anything else?”

I say, “When the alliance is over, our tributes go their separate ways. If they find each other again after that, what they do then is up to them but unless they’re the last ones standing, they break off rather than turning on each other.”

He considers this for a long moment and then says, “All right but only if your sister agrees to treat any wounds mine might receive before they break off and they all divide their spoils. If they’re splitting up rather than fighting, they part ways on equal ground.”

“Deal,” I say. That sounds fair enough and it’s better than I expected. Gale won’t be able to entirely trust them because we won’t be there to enforce the terms but it at least gives Prim a chance if he goes down in the fight against the careers. 

He winks at me and says, “You know, in my district, we seal deals with a kiss.”

“In your dreams, Finnick,” I say, rolling my eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Prim and Gale seem satisfied with the arrangement when I inform them that evening at dinner. Tonight, we work on their skills for their individual sessions with the gamemakers tomorrow afternoon. I wish I knew what Rue had done to draw her seven. Gale will be easy. He’s almost as good with a bow as I am and his strategy is similar to mine—only without shooting at the gamemakers—so that he can ensure that they’ll provide him with one. 

Prim is going to be more difficult. She hasn’t shown skill with any of the weapons. She doesn’t have the strength to throw things around. She can climb a tree but she’s nowhere near as agile as Rue. She knows plants but how to show that to the gamemakers in a way that will convince them she can survive out there? Her greatest skill is healing but that’s a hard one to demonstrate, too. She says shakily, “I could cut a dummy in the leg like Peeta was last year and treat it. It wouldn’t be the same as on a real person but I could have helped you last year.”

“Keeping other tributes alive kind of goes against the point, Little Duck,” I say as gently as I can.

“Yeah,” she says slowly, “but it shows I know how to keep myself alive when I get hurt. And Gale while I’m still around.”

The way she says it sends my eyes shooting daggers at Haymitch. He’s the only one who would have suggested to her that she wasn’t going to make it. He shrugs and gives me a look that says, _Don’t look at me._ “What are you talking about?” I ask her. “You’re going to be just fine.”

The look she gives me is older than her years and I’m shocked to see something akin to pity there. She says, “Katniss, we all know I’m not going to make it. I’m the smallest and the youngest and the weakest. I can’t kill people like you can. I’m not as good in the wilderness. I’m not like you. I can’t win. Gale can, though, and at least one of us will get to go home.”

“Prim,” I say sorrowfully but I know I can’t lie to her. She won’t believe me anyway. 

It’s Gale who puts his arm around her and says, “You don’t have to worry about killing people. That’s my job. You let me do my job and you just focus on keeping me around to do it. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

I think if my feelings for him were ever going to transform from friendship to something more, it would have been in that moment because I’ve never loved him more. He’s willing to die for her because she’s my sister and because he knows that she’s the most important thing in the world to me. And, probably, because he knows just how good she is. Prim isn’t like Gale and me. She’s more like Peeta. Where Gale and I share that same dark center, Prim and Peeta were both light and they spread it to everyone they touched. You can’t help but love Prim.

I bite my nails as I wait for them to return from their individual sessions with the gamemakers. I know it takes hours but as the time drags on, I get more and more anxious until Haymitch offers me his flask. I wave it away and he smirks. A part of me is grateful to him. Being irritated at him is easier than being worried about Gale and Prim. 

Cinna comes to sit down beside me and takes my hand before I chew my nails to the quick. I give him a sheepish look because I know the prep team is going to be frustrated with me. The tributes aren’t the only ones who have to be scrubbed and polished. He doesn’t seem upset with me, though, and says, “This isn’t the most important part, Katniss. Even if she gets a low score, people are going to want to sponsor her because she’s yours. The whole country knows who she is and loves Prim. It’s going to be okay.”

His reassurance calms me but I still leap up from my seat when the elevator doors open and they come striding out. “How did it go?” I ask before they’re even in the room. Then I see Prim’s leg and I gasp. “What did you do?”

She says, “Like you said, they won’t care that I can keep other people alive. I had to show them I could do it for me. And, I thought if they saw that I could take the pain, they’d give me a little more credit.”

“Prim, you can’t hurt yourself this close to the Games!” I exclaim.

“It’s shallow,” she says. “It’ll be better by morning.”

Cinna says, “We can take care of it. She’ll be okay.”

Haymitch is giving her an approving grin and says, “I think you just might be as tough as your big sister, sweetheart.” There’s no sarcasm in the nickname when he says it to Prim.

After dinner, we sit down to watch the scores. They show a picture of the tribute and then the score below it. The careers get consistently high numbers. Most of the rest average somewhere in the middle. Gale pulls a ten. Prim gets a nine and I’m suddenly terrified. I had been worried about her scoring too low to draw sponsors and had hoped that she would get somewhere in the five-to-seven range. Her nine isn’t my eleven but, given her demeanor, it’s still enough that the others will be wondering what she’s hiding and will put her on their radar. She has now become a threat and I wonder if it was deliberate on the gamemaker’s part. Sending her to the Games is my punishment from Snow and now I am certain that they are under instructions to make sure she never leaves. He isn’t satisfied with simply sending her in there and isn’t going to leave anything to chance. President Snow is going to make sure that I am forced to watch my sister die.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, we coach Gale and Prim on their interviews. While Effie takes Prim for her lesson in presentation—which, I’m sure, will be far easier than mine—Haymitch and I sit down in front of Gale. He’s as angry at the idea of the interviews as I was and I understand it completely but I now have more sympathy for Haymitch when dealing with me. I know how important the interviews are and I know that Gale could charm the audience if he wanted to. I also know that he doesn’t want to and there’s nothing I can do to make him want it. He loathes the Capitol at least as much as I do and probably more. It blinds him to everything else.

“Surly it is, then,” Haymitch says, shaking his head. 

“Gale,” I say, “I know it’s repulsive. I know you hate them. I know that the last thing you care about is making these people like you. But this is important. This interview will help decide your sponsors. Anyone on the fence after last night will make up their mind today.”

“It’s disgusting, Katniss,” he says. “I don’t know how you and Peeta managed to be so cheerful.”

Me? Cheerful? I’d been scared out of my wits. Caesar Flickerman had carried me through it. I say, “I just pretended I was talking to Cinna. You and Portia seem to get along. Could you answer her?”

Haymitch and I take turns throwing questions at him and he’s stiff at first but he can’t stay that way with me for long and he eventually begins to relax. He won’t have the same rapport with the audience that Peeta did but Caesar can work with stiff and surly. I just have to trust that Gale will let him draw him out of his shell. Prim is far easier. With her, the main concern will be getting her past her nerves and making sure she talks loud enough for people to hear her. Caesar’s going to love her and I’m certain he’ll help her out so I just work on talking him up so that she’ll trust him enough to open up. 

When the interviews do come, I’m seated between Haymitch and the woman from District 11. Finnick is behind me and he leans forward and says, “Cute kid. She doesn’t look like you, though.”

“She takes after our mom,” I say curtly. I don’t want to talk to Finnick Odair about Prim. 

He turns his attention to Haymitch and they talk quietly until it’s time for his tributes and then he leans back and focuses. If nothing else, I can admit that Finnick’s a good mentor and takes his job seriously. The girl, Dahlia, is tall and lean with tanned skin and golden hair. She seems nice enough but unremarkable and I realize that last year’s tributes from this district didn’t make much of an impression on me, either. I can’t even remember their names but I do remember that I technically killed the girl when I dropped the tracker jacker nest on the career pack. 

I lean into Haymitch as the boy, Angus, takes the stage. “I killed the District Four female last year,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says.

“You don’t think their mentors remember that, too?” I hiss. “We have to call off this alliance.”

He shakes his head and leans closer to me. “People die in the Games, Katniss, and somebody has to kill them. If we all held grudges year after year, there’d never be any alliances. Besides, it’s not like you targeted her specifically.”

“If you’re wrong…” I warn.

Finnick leans forward and I jump. “I don’t care what happened last year,” he says. “I care what happens this year. Dahlia hated Juneau. Angus didn’t know her. Neither of them care, either. It’s One and Two you have to worry about. You did target their kids last year and were at least partially responsible for all of their deaths.”

“Thresh killed Clove,” I say.

“That’s true,” he agrees, “but he was more brutal because she was part of the pack that killed Rue and he let you go. He wouldn’t have known about Rue if it wasn’t for you.”

I cross my arms and try to ignore him. Prim is watching me, so I make a funny face at her to see her smile. She looks too solemn. I see Gale nudge her and whisper something and she gives a small laugh. That’s much better because now it’s her turn and her hands are visibly shaking. I wink at her and she gives me a weak smile. Caesar instantly begins trying to set her at ease and it’s working until he mentions me.

“Prim,” he says, “may I call you Prim?” She nods. “We all remember last year’s Reaping and watching your sister volunteer in your place and then going on to win the Games. How did it feel to hear your name called the second time in as many years? It doesn’t seem like the odds were very much in your favor.”

“Scary,” she whispers. “But I knew…I knew Katniss had done it and she’d been so brave. I had to be brave, too.”

“And you were,” he says magnanimously. “And I know she was just as proud of you as you must have been of her. Tell me, what’s it like to have your sister as your mentor?”

“I’m glad she’s here,” Prim says, looking at me. “If I have to do this, I’m glad she’s the one teaching me. She’s always been there for me. I just…” She trails off.

“You just what?” Caesar prompts, leaning in to gently tilt her face up by the chin. 

She sniffs and looks at me again. “I just want to win,” she whispers. “For her. Like she did for me. Because she’s been so sad since she lost Peeta and I know she doesn’t want to lose me, too. I just want her to be happy. Everything she’s ever done has been for me. She’s the best sister anybody could ever have and she deserves to be happy.” 

I don’t think there’s a dry eye in the audience. I know mine aren’t and even Haymitch is blinking rapidly. He sees me looking at him and says gruffly, “I don’t know what it is you do to people. It certainly isn’t your winning personality.”

Caesar is dabbing at his eyes and patting Prim’s knee. He says, “I’m sure you will, honey. I’m sure you will.” He stands and takes her hand and his manic smile is back as he says, “Primrose Everdeen, everybody!”

She gives me a shaky grin and I give her a thumbs up as she returns to her seat. Gale gives her a quick hug when he passes her and huffs a sigh at me as he reluctantly takes the seat she has vacated. Again, I am the primary topic of the interview and I decide I’m sick of the attention. I’ve been sick of it for a long time. Gale should be getting judged on his own merits but at least I know he’d rather talk about me than about himself. Everyone already knows me and he was one of the main ones they interviewed about me during my Games. 

Caesar says, “So, Gale, it appears you know little Prim quite well.”

“She’s my best friend’s sister,” he answers sullenly. 

Caesar’s eyes flash over to me in surprise and for a moment, I can see the calculations in his mind. It seems he hadn’t put together that this boy was the same one that had been interviewed back in the Seam and no one had told him. “You’re Katniss’ best friend?” he asks. “Well, that is bad luck, isn’t it? I’m beginning to believe being friends with the girl on fire is a good way to get burned.” 

I can see Gale struggling to keep his composure and I wonder for a moment if Caesar was calling out the Capitol in his own way. I know I was his favorite last year and he genuinely liked me but he’s been a part of the Games for so long that there’s no way he’s against them. Still, I think he recognizes that I’m being targeted and isn’t happy about it. Gale clearly can’t think of a reply that won’t get us all in trouble, so he just grunts. 

Caesar says, “Last year, Peeta mentioned that a lot of boys back home favored Katniss. You wouldn’t happen to be one of them, would you?”

Gale’s face heats and he stammers, “No. No! It’s not like that. She’s just a friend.”

Caesar gives a knowing hum and raises his eyebrows to the audience. They laugh on cue and Finnick leans in again. “Is there no one who can resist your charms?”

“You’re one to talk,” I snap. “How many dates have you been on since we’ve been here?”

He reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have your fair share by the time it’s all said and done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, torn between focusing on Gale and my confusion over Finnick’s statement and the way my skin seemed to spark when his finger brushed my ear.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he says cryptically and leans back in his seat again. Beside me, Haymitch huffs.

Caesar is asking Gale about his family now and Gale reluctantly tells him about his siblings and his mother and how his father died in the same mining accident that killed mine. Caesar looks at me again and there’s definitely something troubled there but he doesn’t linger. Gale smiled when he mentioned Posey, so Caesar goes back to that and says, “How do you plan to reconcile being in the arena with your best friend’s sister and getting back home to your own?”

Gale fidgets and drops his head. He says, “If I don’t make it out, Katniss’ll make sure they’re taken care of just like I did for Prim and her mom while she was here. I won’t repay that by killing her sister.”

The audience aahs but my hand finds Haymitch’s and we look at each other with horror hidden in our eyes. The people in the Capitol might not see it for what it is but out in the districts and in the president’s mansion, the message has been sent loud and clear. Gale will not play the game their way any more than I did. He is not a piece, either. He can be pushed only so far and then he will rebel against them. There are some things that he, like me, won’t do. His statement only confirms that my actions during my time as a tribute were deliberate and calculated because in the arena even love goes only so far.


	6. Chapter 6

As we file back onto our floor, the thought hits me hard that this is my last night with them. Tomorrow, they will be in the arena. By this time tomorrow, they could both be dead. I want to gather them to me and keep them there. I want to grab them and run. I want to go in their place, to at least step in and save Prim again. It would be easy, I think, for Gale and me to win together. We can read each other’s minds in the woods. I did it with Peeta. 

It would have been much faster and simpler with Gale. He would never have needed to join up with the careers because we would have been side by side through the entire thing. Everyone back home already thinks Gale and I are in love and will get married someday. We could have played the star-crossed lovers far more convincingly. No one would doubt that I can’t live without Gale. He and I would have made it out and none of this would be happening. If only… But he needed to be where he was because without him both of our families probably would have starved.

Instead of holding them the way I want to, I ignore my meal in favor of dispensing every piece of advice I can think of. I want to be certain there’s nothing I leave out or forget because if I see them in the arena and know that I could have saved them with knowledge I forgot to impart, I’ll never be able to live with myself. Haymitch, Effie, and even Cinna and Portia are pitching in where they can get a word in edgewise and I know that Gale and Prim must be reeling at everything we’re throwing at them but they’re soaking it in and I just have to hope it stays with them. 

When we are finished, I send Prim to bed and take Gale up to the roof where Peeta and I sat last year. I’ve had barely a minute alone with him and I need this one last time. The garden isn’t like our woods but it’s as close as we can get and we sit in the grass with our shoulders touching. We’re silent for a long time, listening to the sounds of the revelry below, and then he says, “If I don’t make it out…”

“I’ll take care of Hazelle and the kids,” I promise him. “I won’t let them go hungry and I won’t ever let the little ones sign up for tesserae.”

He nods and turns his head so that he’s looking at me. I know him so well but I can’t read him now. He’s solemn as he says, “I do, you know. Love you. I think I always have.”

“I love you, too, Gale,” I say, not understanding the significance.

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t mean like that. I mean, I really love you. I always hoped…I know you don’t want kids back home but I’d hoped that maybe someday things would be different somehow and you’d change your mind, decide you wanted a family and wanted it with me. I’d have married you, Katniss.”

I don’t know what to say to this. I don’t feel the same way. At least, I’m pretty sure I don’t. I’ve never thought of him like that. He’s always just been…Gale. He’s a part of me and I don’t want to lose him. I think it might kill me to lose him. But that doesn’t mean I want to marry him. I don’t want to marry anyone. If these Games have taught me anything, it’s that I will never, ever have children. It’s hard enough when it’s Prim. It would destroy me to watch my child’s name get drawn from the ball. As it is, I don’t know how I’m going to survive this. 

He seems to realize that I’m at a loss for words because he leans in and frames my face with his hands. His lips are warm in the cool night air and I’m taken somewhat by surprise at the realization that there are still parts of him that are unfamiliar. I don’t know what I should be feeling but I’m sure it isn’t this. I just want to lock us here in this moment forever where he’s safe and Prim is safe and my world hasn’t ended yet. It isn’t love, at least, not the kind he’s talking about. It’s just a desperate need to hold onto this piece of my soul. Even Peeta’s kisses stirred something more romantic, I guess, in me once. This feels like kissing my brother if my brother was about to die.

He breaks off and looks at me. When he doesn’t see whatever it is he wants to see, he says, “I just had to do that. At least once.”

“I do love you, Gale,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve let him down. 

“I know,” he says and gets to his feet. He offers me his hand and pulls me up into a hug. This feels more natural and I return it freely. When he pulls back, his old smile is in place and he says, “Come on. I know you want to get back to Prim. And don’t worry, I’m not going to let anything happen to her if I can help it.”

I slide into bed beside Prim and find her awake. She’s curled up around her pillow but moves it when I join her and lays her head on my chest. I thread my fingers through her hair and try to think of something to say to reassure her. Nothing comes, so I just return her tight squeeze and we lie in the dark lost in our own thoughts. Finally, she says, “Take care of Buttercup and Lady, okay?”

“I will,” I promise her. “They’ll be glad to see you.”

I feel something hot and wet drip onto my shirt and realize she’s crying. I’m not surprised. She’s been so strong through all of this. It was only a matter of time before it overwhelmed her. She knows as well as I do that she’s not coming home. I wish again that I’d never seen those berries or that I hadn’t spit them out. If I’d died in that arena, she would be safe at home right now. Her presence here is my fault and I can’t save her. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be,” she says softly. “You couldn’t have known.” She sits up on her elbow and, for once, her little face is fierce and she says, “You make them pay for it, Katniss. You make them sorry.”

“I will,” I vow. 

“Try to be nicer to Mom,” she says. “She loves you a lot and you’re going to be all each other has now. You have to stick together.”

“I will,” I tell her and it hurts to know that the little girl with the shirt that insisted on poking out in a duck tail is truly gone. I think of what a fine woman she could be if she only has the chance and have to swallow hard on the lump that forms in my throat. I can’t let her see me cry. I can’t let her see my fear. I have to be strong for her. “I love you, Prim,” I whisper.

“I love you, too, Katniss,” she says. “I really am glad you’re here.”

“Me, too, Little Duck. There’s nowhere else in the whole world I’d rather be,” I say.

“Home?” she asks.

“Only if you’re there, too,” I tell her.

“I want to go home,” she says miserably and buries her face in my shirt. “I want Mom and Buttercup and Lady. I want to see the meadow and smell the bread from the bakery and go out and pick flowers with you.”

“I know,” I say. “Me, too. Go to sleep, honey. Dream of home. You’ll be back there before you know it.”

She squeezes me tightly and her tears gradually subside. I listen as her breathing evens out and gets deeper but I can’t sleep. I’m too acutely aware that this is my last night with her. This is the last time I will hold her in the dark. This is the last time that I can truly protect her. Tomorrow, that will become Gale’s job. He’ll do his best but, in the end, she’ll still be gone because she was right. She’s too small, too young, too innocent, and too good. I close my eyes and I’m back in the tree with Rue. I’ve never been able to separate them in my mind and it’s no different now. I kiss her hair and cry myself to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Morning comes far too quickly and Gale and Prim are swept off to their respective prep teams to get ready for the day. When they are finished, we get a final goodbye. Haymitch, Effie, and I won’t be allowed to accompany them. Cinna and Portia will see them off from here. I know that Cinna will take care of her just as he took care of me last year and I’m glad that he’ll be there but it doesn’t make me wish any less that it was me. Even if mentors could come, though, I’d likely be barred. I think they all know that I would replace her in the chute and go up myself.

When they come out, Prim throws her arms around me and buries her face in my belly. She’s shaking like a leaf and I know she’s even more terrified than I was. I kneel down in front of her and say, “It’s going to be okay. Gale’s going to take care of you. You stay with him. Stay right with him and do whatever he tells you to do. You don’t question and you don’t hesitate, okay? You just do it. Remember what we said about the Cornucopia?” She nods tearily. “Good. It’s going to be loud and it’s going to be scary but you’ll be okay. They won’t be interested in you. They’ll be looking for the bigger kids. Don’t step off your plate until it’s time. Don’t move a muscle until they sound the horn. You find Gale and you let him decide which plan you’re going with. He’ll let you know. Remember your signals. And if you end up alone, just remember. I don’t care how cold it is. No fires in the dark. Just get through it. Don’t be scared. Just be quiet and small and stay out of the way. Find water. Whatever you do, make sure you have a source of water. But don’t drink salt water if it’s there no matter how thirsty you are. Ration your food when you can. Use your brain. You’re smart and you’re small. You know how to hide. All you have to do is outlast the others. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

“Okay,” she says in a small voice. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, tell Effie and Haymitch bye while I talk to Gale, okay?”

She goes to Effie first and Effie holds her close. I think she might even cry a little. Her long eyelashes are batting wildly. I turn my attention to Gale. He takes my hands in his. “Well, Catnip, I guess this is goodbye.”

“Keep her safe, Gale,” I whisper. “Don’t let them hurt her.”

“I won’t,” he says. 

I throw my arms around his neck and whisper in his ear, “If nothing else, if something happens and she’s hurt bad and you know she won’t make it, you make it quick, you hear me?”

“Katniss, I can’t—” he begins.

“You can,” I interrupt. “You can. For me. You don’t let her suffer. I’d rather it be you than any of the others. She knows you love her. She’ll know it’s mercy. And if…if she doesn’t make it…you come back to me, Gale. I can’t lose you both.”

“You won’t,” he says in a choked voice. “I’ll take care of her. I promise. And if I can’t, if I fail, I’ll make them pay.”

“I love you, Gale,” I tell him. 

“I know,” he says, pulling back. “I love you, too.” His mouth quirks and he chucks me under the chin with his knuckle. “Head up, Catnip. Any last words of advice? Want to remind me again not to trust Four or to watch out for One and Two?”

I look over to find Haymitch looking at me over Prim’s head. He gives a sad smile and we say together, “Stay alive.”

It’s time for them to go and I tell Cinna to take care of her. Prim wraps herself around me again and, like last year’s reaping, Gale has to pull her away. He tucks her up under his arm and half-carries her after Portia. Cinna gives me a quick hug and says, “Don’t worry, girl on fire. I’ll take care of her.”

Then they’re gone and I turn to Haymitch with desolation in my eyes. I have never felt this much despair in my life, even when the monitors on the hovercraft let out their steady beep telling me that Peeta was gone. I don’t know what to do now. I feel lost. He pulls me in for a hug and says with surprising gentleness, “No tears now. You know your eyes and your nose get all red. You’ve still got a job to do and you can’t let them see you cry.”

I had expected a long wait while the hovercrafts took the tributes to this year’s arena but instead we’re tossed immediately into a whirlwind of activity. Cinna has left instructions for my prep team and they get to work getting me ready to go greet the public. They’re surprisingly subdued given that the Games are about to start and when they judge that I’m ready, Venia gives my hand a squeeze. “We are all cheering for Prim,” she says. 

“Such a sweet girl,” Octavia says and Flavius nods.

“Thank you,” I say and I’m reminded again of the way they were with my mother. My trio of bright little birds may be a bit clueless but they truly do care.

I accompany Haymitch down to the lobby where the other mentors and potential sponsors await. There’s a festive air to the place which doesn’t fit my mood but I plaster on a fake smile and watch Haymitch go to work, determined to learn from him. This is my job now. I may hate these people but it will be their gifts that may save Prim and Gale and, for them, I can at least pretend. 

Haymitch is, quite simply, astounding. I’ve never seen him like this and barely recognize him. I wonder if this was what he was like once, before his own Games, before he’d spent over two decades watching children he knew die. He is smiling and mostly sober and I even hear him laugh. I reflect that this is what he did for us as well. This is how he got me the food and the medicine and the sleep syrup. I don’t yet know what it is that Prim and Gale will need but this is what I must do to get it for them. 

I square my shoulders and detach myself from him, feeling like I’m a child heading into the woods again and he is my fence. I don’t go far but I do allow people to draw me into conversation. Like my prep team at the end of last year’s Games, they all want to tell me how they felt watching me, where they were, what they were doing, what they thought. It is all about them and I try to pretend that I am interested, fascinated, enthralled. I am aiming high because I know I will fall short and disinterest now on my part could be the cause for cannons in the arena later. 

A man walks up and strokes my shoulder. I try not to flinch. He eyes me up and down and says, “I see your burns have healed.”

“Yes,” I say. “I sometimes forget they were even there.”

He looks proud of this, as if it’s somehow his own accomplishment, and I say, “You were the one who sent the medicine.”

“I was,” he says with a large smile. “I hadn’t realized when they named you the girl on fire that they were planning on being literal.”

“Neither had I,” I say and my laugh is actually genuine. Capitol or not, this is someone who genuinely helped me. I can still feel the searing pain on my leg when I remember the fireballs and the desperate knowledge that I was dead with that injury. Of all the gifts in the arena, the medicine was the one that made all of the difference. So I mean it when I say, “Thank you. That gift saved my life.”

“Well, I had bet quite a large sum of money on you,” he tells me. “I couldn’t lose it without doing something.”

“And who are you betting on this year?” I ask with my most winning smile.

“No one yet,” he says, “but I might be…persuaded to set my money on fire again, so to speak.”

“Oh?” I ask. “And what will that take?”

“Come to the opening night gala with me,” he says. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I’m afraid she’s spoken for tonight,” Finnick says, sliding between us. I see irritation flash across the patron’s features and am about to protest when Finnick gives me a warning squeeze on the hip. He looks around as if making sure no one is listening and drops his voice to a confidential tone. “Will you forgive us this once if we give you a little insider tip?” he asks.

The man’s face shows interest and he says, “I suppose, if it’s a good one.”

Finnick feigns shock and hurt and says, “Octavius, when have I ever let you down? I have it on good authority that there’s an alliance in the works.”

“Oh?” the man says, appearing very interested now. This is big news. District Four is traditionally a career district. Them deciding to break off and ally with District Twelve of all things is going to cause quite a stir. “A new career pack?” he says when Finnick lets him in on it. He looks from Finnick to me and nods. “I suppose you do have quite a lot to talk about tonight. But I do expect that date, Miss Everdeen. I expect to be first on the list.”

I give a mental shrug. What harm can a date to a party be? It’s certainly worth it if it nets them a sponsor such as this. “Of course,” I say. “Effie Trinket can set it up for you. She knows my schedule better than I do.” I drop my voice to my own teasing, confidential tone as I say this last and, for some reason, this makes Finnick tense. I think that maybe he’d had his eyes set on this particular sponsor and isn’t happy that I’ve snared him. This may be my first year as a mentor, but even I know that a wealthy, loyal sponsor is priceless. Besides, Finnick can’t be too mad. Our tributes are sharing their gifts.

Finnick directs me away from Octavius and draws me into a dark corridor. He gives me a flirtatious smile and I resist the urge to push his hand away from my arm because his voice is serious when he speaks. “No more dates. Not today. Equivocate. Tell them you’ll need to check with Effie or Haymitch and get back to them. Act shy. Do whatever you have to in order to keep yourself from agreeing without actually turning them down.”

“What are you talking about, Finnick?” I hiss. “Why do you care if I go to a party with a sponsor? Jealous?”

He laughs but there’s no humor in it. “Haymitch didn’t teach you anything about mentoring, did he? Look, just trust me. I’ll explain later. I can’t do it here. Ask Haymitch if it’s good advice if you don’t believe me.”

I look at him suspiciously and he traces his thumb over my lip. I try to ignore the shiver that runs down my spine but he sees it and chuckles. Before I can reply, he lets me go and walks away. I go immediately to Haymitch. He’s standing with the mentors from Eleven and surveying the crowd. He raises a brow when he sees me and I say, “Why is Finnick suddenly concerned about who I date?”

Haymitch and the two mentors from Eleven look at each other and back at me. The man is shaking his head. The woman looks sympathetic. Haymitch looks like an angry father. He doesn’t break the illusion by saying, “Who asked you on a date?”

“Octavius,” I answer, feeling bewildered by their reactions. “He’s the one who got me the burn medicine last year. He wanted me to go to the opening night gala but Finnick intervened.”

“Thank God. I owe him one,” he says with feeling. His voice turns stern and he raises it loud enough to carry. On either side of him, the mentors from Eleven have taken on parental looks as well. “Listen to me, Katniss. No dates. You are too young. Your mother would skin me alive.” 

There’s a general chuckle about the room and I don’t know what’s going on but I’ve learned to follow along when Haymitch puts on a show. He’ll explain it to me later. It must be important if he’s this bothered. He doesn’t care about me dating. I’m almost eighteen now and, besides, he was the one who encouraged me to kiss Peeta and he didn’t care a bit when I went on the roof with either him or Gale. There has to be a reason for his sudden change of attitude. I duck my head as if chastened and he nods approvingly. He lifts a hand and calls out for Finnick. “Keep an eye on her, will you?”

I glare at him, playing the part of the headstrong teenager and also showing him my anger at latching me onto Finnick. He knows I don’t like him. I don’t understand why he thinks I’m better off with a mentor from another district than I am with him. Finnick pretends not to see it and loops an arm through mine. “Come on, girl on fire, let’s get our tributes some sponsors.”

By the time the screen in the lobby activates, I have to admit that Haymitch might have been onto something. Finnick is certainly a master at getting sponsors and he isn’t just working on getting them for his own. When we find one that’s leaning toward Gale or Prim, he goes to work on them, too. The women, of course, respond better to him but the men all but trip over themselves for me. Between the two of us, we’ve done a decent job collecting promises of sponsorship and he’s kept me from having to agree to any more dates. I still don’t see what the big deal is but if Haymitch thinks it’s important, I’ve learned to trust him.


	8. Chapter 8

The screen drops, covering most of one wall, and the lobby goes silent. I’m suddenly glad that Finnick is beside me because I don’t see Haymitch anywhere and I know I’m not prepared for this. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith are introducing the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games and I’m trying to keep the blood from rushing out of my head. Finnick slides an arm around my waist and I can’t feel anything but grateful for his silent support. A glance up at him tells me he’s nervous as well. His jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are locked on the screen. I clench my jaw as well because my teeth are trying to chatter. I’m torn between picturing Prim in the Launch Room and myself there and I know that, as scared as I was last year, I’m far more afraid now.

The image cuts away and the arena is revealed for the first time. A collective groan goes up from the mentors as we take it in. It isn’t the worst arena I’ve ever seen but it’s up there. The cornucopia is in the center of a flat glacier. Just beyond the circle of plates where the tributes will come up, the land rises sharply into a rocky, mountainous terrain that reminds me of the range that protects the Capitol. There are trees but they, like everything else, are covered in thick snow. There’s enough wood that the tributes won’t freeze to death like they did one year but the fires required to keep them alive will also spell their doom. Hiding will be almost impossible in that thick snow. Gale and I know how to cover our tracks but Prim doesn’t. She’s going to have to learn quickly or she’ll lead the other tributes straight to her.

My hand finds Finnick’s and he grips it tightly. The arena is probably even more concerning to him. District Four is on the beach. It’s warm. Their tributes have never won in a cold arena. I’ve been so focused on the fact that I have been forced to mentor my sister and my best friend that I have forgotten that the other mentors care about their tributes, too. I glance up at him again and whisper, “District Twelve is cold. Gale and Prim can teach them how to survive it.” 

“I have a feeling our alliance may outlive the careers,” he whispers back. “If your sister and friend will allow it.”

“They will,” I say, “as long as yours stay loyal and help him keep Prim alive.”

“I told them not to kill her if they could help it,” he admits quietly. “Gale is fair game but your sister…they’re good kids. They won’t do it unless it comes down to her or them and then they’d do it quick. They won’t hurt her if they don’t have to.”

I look at him in shock. Is it possible that beneath the pompous, flirtatious exterior beats the heart of a decent guy? It can’t be. No one decent ever wins the games. But, perhaps, there’s at least some compassion, some sense of the utter wrongness of this whole thing. For the first time, I think that maybe Finnick Odair is someone I might like to know. Haymitch is friends with many of the other victors. I’ve seen the mentors grouping together without regard for district. We’re all intensely loyal to our tributes but I think that maybe we aren’t all still fighting each other beyond what it takes to keep our own kids alive.

Finnick nudges me to get my attention and I turn back to the screen as the plates open and the tributes begin to rise. I search frantically for Prim and Gale. I find Gale first. He’s looking around the arena and his expression is already calculating. I see the grim satisfaction on his face. He knows the cold will be dangerous but this is his kind of territory. He can move through snowy woods like a wraith. As long as he can get Prim and the others to do the same and as long as there’s game, they might actually have a chance. It’s him who helps me find Prim. After taking in the arena, he scans the other tributes and his eyes lock on a plate a few over to his right. I follow the direction of his gaze and there she is.

She looks so small surrounded by the other tributes and with the cornucopia and the mountains looming over her. Her eyes are wide and frightened and she clutches her chest tightly, frozen in place. The only part of her that moves is her head and I can see her looking for Gale. She spots him and when he gives her the signal to run, she nods shakily. Gale is going to brave the cornucopia. He knows that they won’t survive there without supplies. He can start a fire with nothing but wood but he needs a flask for water so that he can warm and melt the snow and they’re going to need backpacks or blankets, not to mention weapons. 

Prim looks around, trying to figure out where she’s going to go as the countdown begins. Very slowly, she raises her hands and tightens the fur-lined hood around her face. I see my mockingjay pin glint in the morning sun. Cinna must have put it on her. I’m glad because I’d meant to but I forgot with everything else I felt I needed to do. Her fingers go to it and she takes a deep breath.

I’m holding mine and don’t realize it until Finnick whispers, “Breathe.” I’m not entirely sure whether he’s talking to me or himself but I do it anyway. The timer reaches zero, the horn blows, and the tributes explode into action. My eyes are locked onto Prim. She hesitates for a moment, a frightened rabbit frozen in panic, and then she bolts. She really is fast and she heads for a thick stand of trees. It’s a good choice. Her footsteps will lead into them but the snow will be lighter on the ground there and she can lose any pursuers in the woods. I watch until she’s safely ensconced and I’m sure no one has followed and then I turn my attention to Gale.

He has found the District Four tributes and they’ve reached the Cornucopia. The girl, Dahlia, grabs a net that was laid over the stacks of supplies and puts herself at Gale and Angus’ backs. The boys grab backpacks and throw them over their shoulders without looking through them. Gale finds a bow and quiver of arrows and grabs them before tucking a knife into his belt. He finds a second one, smaller than the first, and tucks it in as well. Then he throws a second bag over his other shoulder and, with a look at his allies to confirm that they’re ready, turns to the fray. 

The careers immediately target them. The boy from One stalks toward Angus who shoves his spear in his direction. He doesn’t get it close enough for the boy to bat it away. It’s a warning and the boy from One’s eyes narrow. The girl from One is caught in Dahlia’s net and Angus turns and drives his spear into her while both from Two converge on Gale. Gale already has an arrow nocked and he sends it flying at the boy from Two. It lodges in the boy’s thigh and Gale draws his knife and slashes at the girl from Two. The boy from Two pulls the arrow from his leg and leaps at Gale but Dahlia tangles his feet in the net. He goes down and Angus grabs the girl from Two and throws her against the side of the cornucopia. 

The three of them take off at a run, escaping the bloodbath. Gale takes a knife to the arm but it’s a shallow cut. Prim will be able to handle it. He ignores it and urges the other two forward. Finnick and I both breathe a sigh of relief as they pass through the woods near the place where Prim entered. The majority of the screen is devoted to the bloodbath at the cornucopia but there are smaller boxes along the edges that follow the tributes who’ve gotten away and we watch as Prim runs through the trees and throws herself at Gale. He hugs her quickly and then takes her by the hand and drags her deeper into the woods. Their path will take them higher into the mountains but it’s possible that there are caves like the one that Peeta and I shared that will give them shelter and, for now, getting as far away from the other tributes as they can is the wisest course of action until they can get to a relatively safe place and divide their supplies.

“They made it,” Haymitch says from behind us. “That’s good. That’s really good. Means they have a chance. And they got in a blow to the careers.”

He’s right. The one that Angus stabbed with the spear is still lying unmoving on the ground. The other three are fighting but there’s blood running down the leg of the one Gale shot and the one Angus threw into the side of the cornucopia seems a little bit dazed. It isn’t enough to keep her from taking down the boy from Eight, though. I keep part of my attention on the battle raging in the valley and the rest on Gale and Prim. Prim has made Gale stop and she checks his wound. Apparently, she’s satisfied that it’s not too bad because when he says something to her, she nods and they keep moving. 

All in all, they’re both in a better position now than I was at this point last year. They have allies and supplies and they’re surrounded by sources of fresh water. I’m not quite hopeful but I’m not as terrified as I was. At the very least, I know that Prim has three people in the arena who will make sure that her end, if it must come, is as quick and painless as they can make it. She won’t suffer. I still don’t believe I’m going to get her back. I don’t think President Snow will allow it even if she could do it on her own. But maybe, just maybe, he won’t insist on taking them both and I’ll at least get Gale back. I know with absolute certainty that he could win this.

Finnick’s arm relaxes around me and he says with relief in his voice, “They did well.”

The bloodbath finally ends and we’re surrounded by people wanting to know if this means that there really is an alliance between Four and Twelve, if there’s a new career pack in play, and wanting to discuss sponsorships. I have to stop watching the screen and trust that they are all right for the moment because they’re doing what they need to do and now I need to continue doing what I need to do to support them.


	9. Chapter 9

My hope burgeons as the morning continues. The supplies that Gale and the Fours collected are good ones. They’ve got sleeping bags and fire starter and even some food. There’s no flask but there is a pot and it’ll be good enough until Gale can take down game and make a water bag out of its skin. Best of all, there’s a first aid kit and that’s what lets me see the first real smile on Prim’s face in days. They’re well set and, between the four of them, I think they’ve got a good chance.

That hope lasts until Angus bends down and scoops up a handful of snow. I’m shaking my head and silently urging Gale to tell him how stupid that is in the cold and that he just needs to be patient when he puts it in his mouth. He makes it three steps before he falls over and begins to seize. Finnick and I look at each other and I see him wince and curse. Every eye is riveted on the screen. As deaths go, this isn’t one of the most exciting but it is meaningful. The tributes all likely thought that water wasn’t going to be a concern. They know differently now. The gamemakers would never make it that easy. Suddenly, finding fresh water on this mountain is a priority.

Claudius Templesmith’s voice filters into the room. He’s whispering as if the tributes could hear him if he spoke louder. “The snow looks like it’s made from water but it isn’t. The water in this arena is all frozen and stored in the ice floes and glacier upon which the cornucopia sits. They will have to find ice, chip it off, and let it melt or they’ll risk hypothermia.”

“But will they trust the ice?” Ceasar asks. “Or will they assume that it, too, is unsafe?”

It’s a good question. I look at Haymitch. “Can we find a way to let them know?” I ask. “Send them an ice pick or something?” I know if I were in the arena and Haymitch sent that to me, it would be a clear message that the ice was safe.

He considers this and says, “Let’s see what Gale does. They’re coming up on an ice floe. We’ll give him an hour or two. If he decides not to trust it, we’ll go with your idea.”

Prim flushes a rabbit from a burrow in the snow and Gale shoots it without hesitation. Instead of the clean kill I’d expected, he gets it in the hip. He still doesn’t kill it even when he gets it in his hands. Instead, he passes it to Prim and I can see her instantly arguing to save it. The Fours look at her like she’s crazy but Gale just shakes his head and says something to her. They aren’t the focus of the screen anymore and so the audio isn’t on them. I can’t hear them but I know he’s explaining something because I can read both his mannerisms and her reaction. She isn’t happy about it but a look around and especially at the weapons in the others’ hands seems to convince her. Gale has a plan.

“It’s a canary,” I say.

“Pretty sure that’s a rabbit,” Finnick says.

“No,” I say. “I mean, he’s going to use it to test any water they find. If the rabbit lives, it means it’s safe to drink. Like the canaries they take into the coal mines to tell them if the air is safe.”

“Smart,” Haymitch says and Finnick nods but I can tell he’s still upset by the loss of his tribute. The girl has taken the boy’s pack and she holds a spear in one hand and her net in the other. It’s strange but she kind of reminds me of me.

By lunch, I’m comfortable enough with their current situation to nibble at the feast the Capitol workers lay out for us. The careers are still a concern even though Gale and the others were able to wound them at the bloodbath. They hadn’t expected him and the Fours to be working together and had been taken off-guard. They’ll be prepared now and, rather than the group of four we’d hoped for, it’s just Gale, Prim, and Dahlia. But they’re well-equipped and Finnick assures me that the girl is smart and capable and I’m the last person to underestimate her just because she’s a girl. Gale won’t make that mistake, either. In fact, I suspect he’s going to kind of feel like he’s got me there. There really is something about her that feels familiar. For his sake, I hope he isn’t the one who has to kill her.

There’s a break after lunch. This is the time when most of the tributes are taking stock of their situations and things quiet down for a little while. The guests go, leaving the victors gathered together in the lobby. Some make their way up to their floors. Others continue to mingle, speaking more openly now that it’s just us. I grab Finnick by the arm and pull him into a quiet corner. 

“It’s later. Explain,” I demand.

He sighs and looks down at his feet. I’ve never seen him looking so uncertain and it makes me nervous. It’s like he doesn’t want to say it. He looks around, probably for Haymitch, but Haymitch has pulled out a flask and is passing it back and forth with his buddy from Eleven while they talk to the female from Seven. He looks back at me again and there’s real regret on his face. “A date here doesn’t mean the same thing as it does where you’re from,” he says uncomfortably. “There are parts of being a victor that you don’t hear about on the news.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

He shuffles his feet and looks around, this time to make sure that we’re alone. His voice is low and ashamed as he says, “I’m not the playboy you think I am. President Snow…sells me…my body, I mean. And it’s not just me. If a victor is considered desirable, the president will make a gift of them or allows people to buy them for insane amounts of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it.”

I look at him in horror as the pieces begin to fit themselves into a terrible picture. Finnick’s parade of lovers. Haymitch’s reaction. His self-imposed solitude and lack of family. The expression on the faces of the mentors from Eleven. “Finnick, I…” I begin.

He shakes his head to cut me off. “Don’t. I’m not the only one but I’m the most popular. And, maybe, the most defenseless because the people I love are the most defenseless. Annie, my fellow mentor this year? She’s my sister. She’s never been the same since her games.” I nod because I remember now. Annie had won when the gamemakers had flooded the arena. She was from Four. She could swim. The others drowned around her. She isn’t seen much and I was honestly surprised that she’s here this year. She might not be crazy but she’s certainly not all there. He continues, “Mags, the old lady from last year? She was my mentor. Even if President Snow doesn’t choose to sell you, a lot of the sponsors will demand certain…favors…in exchange for their sponsorships. If your kids are dying out there and you can save them with an hour or two of unpleasantness, you do it because, by this point, it’s just another date.”

I say slowly, “So when Octavius said we could arrange something… Why are you telling me this?”

Finnick says sadly, “Everyone wants to touch the girl who was on fire. Snow hasn’t started selling you yet. You don’t have a reputation. I thought…hoped…that I could help you avoid it for a little longer. When do you turn eighteen?” 

“Next month,” I say quietly.

He says, “You’ll probably make it through the Games, then, if you can avoid any voluntary dates. Stick with the victors as much as you can. We’ll do our best to keep your schedule too full. I’m afraid we won’t be able to help you any once you go back home, though.”

“He’s going to use my mother,” I say.

Finnick nods. “He may even let Gale live just to have someone else to hold against you. Everyone thinks you and Haymitch hate each other, so he’s probably safe. I don’t know who else you care about.”

“No one,” I say. Madge doesn’t count. She was my friend, yes, but we aren’t close enough for her to be in danger, especially if I stay away from her once I go back home. My mother, Gale, Prim, and, yes, even Haymitch are the only people I have left.

“I’m sorry, Katniss,” he says. “I think we were all kind of hoping that the romance with Peeta would save you and it probably has so far. It wouldn’t be proper to show you dating right after he died. But it’s been a year and no one expects you to mourn him forever. Maybe if he’d lived…but that couldn’t be allowed to happen.”

I’d suspected that Snow had ordered the doctors to let Peeta die but Finnick’s words confirm it. Even minutes after being taken from the ring, Snow had already been maneuvering me into his sadistic punishment. I didn’t think it was possible to hate him more than I already did, but I do. Finnick shakes his head in warning and it reminds me that, while we may be mostly alone, there are still Capitol workers here who won’t hesitate to report anything they might see.

“What do I do?” I ask.

“If you want to keep your family alive, you do what they say,” he says. “I can give you advice if you want. God knows I’ve had enough practice.”

I want to see Prim. I need to see Prim. The screen is still down and playing and I walk away from him and find them on the television. They’ve found the ice and Gale is using one of the knives to chip away at it. He tucks it into the rabbit’s mouth and they all watch expectantly. The blood appears to have stopped coming from his arm and I’m certain that Prim has taken care of it by now. She’s shivering, so he draws her close. I watch them and think of what Finnick has told me. Gale might live, not just by his own skill but by Snow’s design. His life will appease those in the Capitol who are insisting that I’ve lost too much already and it will give Snow another hostage. 

Gale would be a better one, in fact, than even my mother because, if I’m honest, I don’t really expect her to survive losing Prim. Even if I don’t actually lose her, she’ll probably sink back into that debilitating depression she fell into after my father died. She would have resisted it if I’d been lost because Prim needed her but I’m too self-sufficient and I’ve pushed her away for too long for her to truly believe that I need her, too. Honestly, if it came down to it and I had to choose, I really do need Gale more than I need her. I love her but in that cold, calculating place that Gale and I both have inside of us, I know that he can help me survive while she cannot.


	10. Chapter 10

The opening night gala is held at the president’s mansion. I’ve been there once before, on my victory tour, and the party is no less opulent now. Cinna and my prep team have gone all out but they, too, seem to understand the implications of making me look too grown-up, so he has gone for a simple, elegant dress in a soft pink color that glows like the sunset. It makes me think of Peeta and the cookies he used to decorate in the bakery back home. 

As Effie would say, everyone who is anyone is at the party. It is an opportunity for the high ranking of the Capitol to meet the mentors, prep teams, stylists, and even some of the gamemakers and for mentors to sign up sponsors for their tributes. I hadn’t realized just how much the mentors of tributes in alliances worked together until Finnick latched onto me and Haymitch took Annie by the arm. She gives him a wary look and glances back to Finnick but a nod from him and a soft word from Haymitch has her relaxing some. I’m amazed by how considerate he is with her. There’s even an air of protectiveness I’ve never seen before. I think of him last year having to put on a show with the career pack’s mentors for Peeta and I wonder if he hated it.

I’m still upset by Finnick’s revelations and a part of me is angry with him for telling me. I know it’s unfair but I can’t seem to help it. Most of me, though, just feels sorry for him. I realize that I’m looking at all of the victors with new eyes. Every time a potential sponsor puts a hand on one of them or takes them onto the floor for a dance, I wonder if they will be forced to go with them after the party and how they manage to smile and flirt and laugh without screaming. 

Finnick tells me to stop thinking about it and leads me to the tables that are laden with food. My eyes fall on the dainty flutes of liquid designed to allow people to empty their stomachs so they can fill them again and I glower. Finnick draws my attention away from them and gestures to a platter with the lamb stew I love so much. I realize that he knows a lot about me for a victor from a district that had almost nothing to do with mine before this year. He has been paying attention and I don’t know why. It makes me uneasy.

We eat but my thoughts keep returning to Prim and Gale. I feel guilty about being surrounded by this rich food when I’m wondering if their stomachs are growling and hunger is beginning to gnaw at them. I want to spend every moment riveted on the screen, never letting them out of my sight, but I remind myself that I have a job to do. I have to just trust that Gale knows what he’s doing and Prim is all right because if I let my fear for them come to the surface, I won’t be able to do what needs to be done.

After we eat, we mingle. I’m not good at mingling, so I let Finnick take the lead and jump in when someone’s attention turns to me. Across the room, Haymitch is holding a glass of wine and laughing with someone who looks vaguely familiar. Annie is pressed up against him as if hoping he will protect her. I feel sorry for her and see Finnick checking on her periodically as well. 

The man from earlier, Octavius, pulls me away for a dance and I go with him reluctantly. Knowing what he wants from me, his hands on my hip and my hand feel dirty and I don’t like the way he presses into me. However, I remind myself that this is for Prim and I pretend to be enamored. It must work because he tells me that he’s put his money on Gale. I wish it was for Prim but I’m reminded of something Haymitch has said about the choices we have to make as mentors. At least anything that helps Gale helps Prim as well.

After Octavius is another man and then a woman and then one of the gamemakers. I recognize him as Plutarch Heavensbee, the replacement for Seneca Crane. “Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask. He is the head gamemaker and this is the first night of the Games. 

“I am working,” he says. “Meetings don’t just take place in boardrooms and the public wants to see us. I’ll be informed if anything interesting happens.” I work to conceal my hatred for him. I can’t risk offending him. Anything I do to make him angry will blow back onto Gale and Prim. He says, “Speaking of which, what do you think about this new alliance?”

I don’t know what he wants from me. “I think it’ll be interesting to see how it plays out,” I say neutrally.

“Yes, I’m sure it will,” he says.

When he releases me, a new man pulls me in for a dance. I can smell the spirits that flow from a fountain on one of the tables on his breath. He is somewhat unsteady and his hands roam over my hips. I try to ignore it, telling myself again that it’s for Prim but I’m getting tenser by the minute and beginning to picture one of my arrows in his throat. When Finnick cuts in, I think I could kiss him. He ducks his head and says, “Stay away from that one. He won’t sponsor unless you sleep with him and even then his gifts aren’t worth it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

This close to him, I can feel the heat pouring off of his body and the strength of him below the artfully tailored suit his stylist chose. He looks lean but his shoulders are broad and muscular and I remember seeing him go down into the training gym when the tributes weren’t using it. He keeps himself in shape. He smells nice, too. Most of these Capitol people are perfumed and cloyingly sweet but he smells like the sea. I’ve only been there once, on my victory tour, but the scent of salt water and beach grasses swaying in the breeze is a unique one and I’d enjoyed it. It surprises me that he should carry that scent with him so far from home and makes me wonder if the smell of coal dust lingers on my skin.

His hand is firm on the small of my back but doesn’t roam like the man’s before. I don’t really know how to dance beyond the short lessons that Effie has given me so that I don’t step on toes but it doesn’t matter with Finnick. He leads me confidently and I just have to pay attention to the signals of his body to follow along. I think that it might be pleasant if we were anywhere but here. We talk about the sponsors we’ve acquired and he points out others he wants to speak with. We talk about our homes and the differences from the Capitol. We don’t talk about ourselves.

When the dance is over, I can’t help myself. I have to check on Prim and Gale. Haymitch and Annie join us at the screens and, as others come to join us, I realize it’s almost time for the anthem and the first death count of the Games. I find the square showing Gale, Prim, and Dahlia. The area they’re in has heavy snow cover and the branches of the trees are weighed down with white. If they were to go up in one, they would dislodge it and the green of the pine needles would stick out like a beacon. Instead, they have formed a small hollow in the snow and they huddle together in it. It’s smart because it will keep the wind off of them and, if he’s packed the interior tightly enough, will radiate their heat back onto them. They peek their heads out as the anthem plays and I see Prim’s face raised to the sky. It’s tight but she looks all right. Gale just looks grim.

Nine tributes have died today. Six went down at the bloodbath, two were killed by the snow, and one fell into a crevasse in the rocks and broke her neck. The public should be satisfied for now. The tributes should be able to rest for tonight. It’s been an eventful opening day and I try to ignore the excitement of the party-goers and focus on my companions instead. I watch Prim and Gale as they count the dead and begin to figure out who’s left. When the anthem ends, the girls return to the hollow and Gale takes up watch at the opening.

When the party finally winds down, we make our way back to the Training Center. Finnick and Annie accompany us up to our floor along with the District Four escort, a woman named Mala. Mala and Effie chatter excitedly about the party while Cinna and Portia join us. Finnick looks surprised by this but doesn’t say anything. Haymitch takes the lead, telling us about the sponsors that he and Annie have acquired and then Finnick and I tell about ours. It seems like a lot when we list them but the prices of gifts in the arena are high and will get higher every day. We will have to pool the money from several sponsors just to get a single gift when it’s needed. 

I’m not surprised when I learn that the people from the Hob have taken up a collection as they did it for me last year and Gale is just as much one of their own but I am when I find out that the townspeople and the Peacekeepers have pitched in. The townspeople have specified their donations for Prim and I’m touched. I will have to remember to thank them when I get home. They have probably done it mostly for my mother but I know that they love Prim as well. Her teacher from school has made the largest contribution followed by Peeta’s father. Even the Goat Man has kicked in some.

We try to anticipate the things that they might need and work on coordinating the gifts. I tell Haymitch that I believe that I can send messages to Gale with the gifts we send just like he did with me the year before and he nods. Finnick raises an eyebrow at this and I wonder if we might be revealing too much but Haymitch doesn’t seem concerned. I wonder what will happen when the alliance is over and I want to make sure that nothing we reveal to them can come back to hurt Gale and Prim but I can’t think of how they could do that so I relax a bit. 

The television stays on and we watch the tributes settle in for the night. I know that Finnick is still upset that Angus is gone but he seems satisfied that Dahlia will be all right for now. They have figured out the water situation and are as well-hidden as they can be for the moment. Gale isn’t as skilled at camouflage as Peeta was but he does know how to hide in the woods and he can make a blind from almost anything. He’s much better at that than I was. I hope Prim isn’t scared. 

When the others leave and we go to bed, I turn the television on in my room and wake periodically throughout the night to check on them. The watch changes and I’m truly glad for the alliance, at least for now, because Gale has the chance to sleep. I don’t think either of them trusts Prim as a guard yet and I’m grateful that he isn’t going to have to fight exhaustion along with the hunger and the cold. Through the opening of the cave, I can see him lying beside Prim with her head on his shoulder. I wish she was here with me but I’m glad that they have each other.


	11. Chapter 11

I am back in the arena, huddled on top of the cornucopia as Cato dies loudly below. It is cold and I am drifting in and out of sleep as I try to tune out the pained screams that fill the air. Cato sounds like a girl as he dies. I reach for Peeta and my hand encounters only cold metal. I lift my head, looking for him, and see only darkness. I turn, thinking he is on the other side, and see his back facing me. His jacket is wrapped tightly around him and his golden hair shimmers in the moonlight. Only there is something wrong. It doesn’t fall the right way and there is something about the shape of his head that looks strange and disturbing. 

I call his name and he stirs. When he turns to face me, there is saliva dripping from his teeth. His eyes are wide in his furry face and he snarls, “Run, Katniss! What are you doing? Get out of here!”

I scramble back from him as he brings himself up onto all fours and my hands touch the edge of the horn. I look down, trying to judge the distance, trying to decide if I would rather face the mutts down there or the mutt up here, and I see Cato lying in a pool of blood, his body mangled, while the mutts rip at his limbs. Only it isn’t Cato. It’s Prim and she’s screaming in pain. My hands slip and I fall, calling her name.

I come awake with screams ripping from my throat and look around wildly. I am not in the arena. I am in my room in the Training Center and I am alone. The sound of screams continues. _Prim!_ My head jerks in the direction of the screen and my body goes limp. It is not Prim who is screaming but the girl from District 10. Prim and Dahlia are sitting outside of their snow cave. Dahlia is keeping guard while Prim crushes up pine nuts into a paste with a rock. Elsewhere, Gale creeps through the snowy woods in the hazy morning cold with his bow drawn. He is hunting. They are safe. 

I sigh with relief and glance at the clock. Effie will be coming soon to call us to breakfast downstairs with the other mentors before the Capitol citizens wake for the day. I get out of bed and go into the bathroom to try to wash away the remnants of the nightmare. The image of Peeta’s face as a mutt or Prim’s mangled body don’t leave me as easily as the sweat that had plastered my hair to my neck. I hear the knock on my door and Effie’s cheerful voice announcing the start of another “big, big, big day,” and ignore her as I get into the shower.

The unease from the dream is still with me when I accompany her and the stylists down to the cafeteria. Haymitch is still in bed. He’ll get up in a few hours when there’s actual work to be done and probably take a muffin in his room. He doesn’t sleep well at night and he doesn’t eat much in the mornings. That’s all right. I rise early, so I don’t mind taking the morning shift if he’s willing to stay up late into the night. Of course, it’s not like I’m going to get much sleep during the Games. I’m too worried about Prim and Gale.

I fill a plate, feeling guilty and thinking of Prim’s nut paste, and carry it over to the long table the other victors have created by pushing the smaller ones together. My eye falls on the District 10 mentors. They look subdued and I give them an apologetic smile. One and Two are conferring seriously at the head of the table. The woman from Eleven is talking to the woman from Three. The woman from Seven is studiously ignoring the man from her district and is watching Finnick and Annie. Something has upset Annie and she is rocking back and forth in her seat with her hands over her ears. Finnick has maneuvered himself so that she is looking at his face and his hands are smoothing over her arms as he tries to calm her down. I feel like an intruder but the seat beside him is one of the only ones open and I don’t want to sit by the careers so I take it. 

He glances at me as I sit down and I say, “Is she okay?”

“She will be,” he answers with a dirty look at the male from Six. 

“Can I help?” I ask.

“Some water, if you don’t mind,” he says. I nod and leave my tray while I go to fetch a glass of water. He thanks me when I return and begins to cajole Annie into taking the cup. She looks at Six suspiciously but then looks at Finnick and takes it. 

“Thank you, Katniss,” she says after she drinks.

“You’re welcome, Annie,” I tell her and Finnick returns his attention to his food. Portia asks Annie something about her dress from the party last night and the talk around us turns to the gala. I watch Annie and decide that she’s less crazy than simply unstable. She trails off mid-sentence and stares off into space until a word from Finnick brings her back to the present. She laughs at odd points in the conversation and sometimes seems confused about the topic at hand. But she seems very sweet and it’s easy to see why Finnick is so protective of her. I feel a sense of kinship with him because he’s like me with Prim. We both have vulnerable sisters whom we’d die to protect.

A hush falls over the table as the attention in the room turns to the screen. I’m mid-bite when Cinna nudges me and gestures with a serious look on his face. His hand slips into mine and squeezes. My food turns into a hard lump in my throat as I look up. The smaller squares are still present but the focus has turned to Prim’s little shelter. She and Dahlia are eating their nut paste with their backs to the rock behind them. Above them, just out of sight, is the male tribute from District Five and he’s holding a sword. I search the smaller boxes for Gale and see him moving through the woods with a rabbit hanging from his belt. I know without having to look that he’s too far away. 

Finnick and I share a look and he leans over and says something to Annie. She gets up and leaves the room but I’m not paying attention to them anymore. My attention is riveted on the screen and my mind is screaming, _Run, Prim! Run!_ She can’t hear me, of course, and she continues scraping her paste off of the flat rock that is her plate. Dahlia’s eyes scan the woods but she’s confident with the rocks at her back and doesn’t look up until a small clump of snow falls and lands beside her. 

She shouts and leaps to her feet. Prim looks around with her eyes wide with fear. In the smaller box, I can see that Gale is within earshot because he stops attempting to be stealthy and breaks into a run. Everything happens quickly then. The boy from District Five leaps down from the rock. Dahlia grabs her net and the spear. The boy turns and raises the sword but his eyes aren’t on Dahlia. They’re on Prim. Prim drops her makeshift plate and falls back onto her hands, trying to scrabble away but the rock is at her back and he is at her front and she has nowhere to go. 

Dahlia’s net flies and I think she’s going to wrap up the boy but it lands instead on Prim and I am consumed by rage. I wrench my hand from Cinna’s grasp and grab Finnick by the shoulders. He isn’t paying attention to me and it’s easy to flip him around in his seat and slam him down onto the table. The back of his head hits the edge of a bowl, sending its contents flying and I vaguely hear Effie shout my name and something about manners but I don’t care. He lied to me. All of that talk about not hurting Prim and Gale being fair game and all along they’d planned to kill her first. I hear the boom of the cannon and see red. 

I’m reaching for the knife by my plate when a pair of arms wraps around my waist and drags me off of Finnick. I drive my elbow into the person behind me and try to jerk out of his grasp but he holds tight. Then Cinna’s voice is in my ear. “Katniss, stop! Look! Prim’s okay!”

He has to repeat himself again before I register what he’s saying and look up. Prim is still on the ground, wrapped in the net, but she’s moving. Dahlia is jerking the spear from the boy from Five, whose blood is already melting the fake snow. My knees turn to rubber and I collapse back against Cinna. Finnick straightens, brushing his shirt, and smoothing back his hair. “She’s okay,” I say weakly. “She’s okay.”

“Dahlia was just pulling her out of the way,” Cinna says. “If she’d missed the boy, Prim would be dead. If she missed Prim, she’d at least block the sword.”

He settles me back into my chair and I’m about to apologize to Finnick when Gale bursts through the trees with his bow drawn. He takes in the sight of Prim on the ground in the net, the bloody spear in Dahlia’s hand, and aims the arrow at her. Dahlia shifts the spear, preparing to throw it, but waits. His fingers begin to loosen and Prim shouts, “Gale, stop! Don’t!” He looks to her but maintains his hold on the bowstring. Prim throws the net off of her and says, “She saved me! Look! She saved me!”

Gale releases the tension in the bow and lowers the arrow. Dahlia relaxes her stance. We all breathe a sigh of relief. Well, all but District Five’s mentors who are staring at each other. I look over at Finnick and mumble, “I’m sorry.” I’m not good at apologizing but I know he deserves it. I’m the shoot first, ask questions later type and trust is hard for me to come by. 

“It’s all right,” he says and I help him clean up the mess from his bowl. 

“What happened?” Annie asks, coming back into the room. 

Finnick looks at her and says, “I spilled my food.”

She shakes her head and says, “You should be more careful, Finnick. We can’t waste food. There are people starving in the Districts.”

“You’re right,” he says, looking over at me. “Haste makes waste.”

I look back up at the screen and find Gale holding Prim tightly. He looks up over her head and his eyes lock with Dahlia’s. Something passes between them and I’m reminded of how quickly bonds can form in the arena, of how Rue managed to permanently instill herself in my heart just by reminding me of Prim, and I know that Gale is experiencing this now. I understand. Dahlia saved my sister. I owe her a debt I can never repay and remember the bread sent from District 11. I ask Finnick a question and hurry from the room to find the official in charge of the gifts. I instruct him to take the money from the townspeople and use it to send something to Dahlia.

It has already arrived by the time I return to the dining room. The silver parachute floats down as they’re gathering their things and Prim opens it. She holds it out to show the others and I see the green-tinted loaf of bread from District Four sitting inside the container. I can tell it’s still warm because steam rises into the cold air. Dahlia’s face lights and she takes it from the container and presses it to her nose. She grins at Gale and Prim and breaks it into three pieces. Gale tries to refuse his piece but she insists. Before she eats, she turns her face up to the sky and shouts, “You’re welcome!”

Gale looks at her in surprise and I see her mouth my name. Gale smiles and nudges Prim. Whatever he says to her wipes the shock and last remnants of fear from her face and she looks up. Her smile is wide and she waves hard, making her twin braids bounce, and says, “Good morning, Katniss! I miss you!” Gale waves with her and gives her a hug to show me she’s okay. I choke back the tears that threaten to rise and resist the urge to go to the screen and trace my fingers over their faces. I want to hug Prim so badly my arms ache.

They finish eating the bread and then Gale drags away the body of the boy from Five. They’ve clearly decided that it’s safer to go ahead and cook the meat than to wait. If anyone heard the boy die, then their location isn’t secret anymore anyway and, rather than potentially lose another good spot by risking the smoke from the fire, they’re going to take the risk all at once. They can’t know that no one else is close by but we do. They’re safe again for the moment. They all look up as the hovercraft comes in to pick up the boy and Prim’s face turns serious again but Gale says something to her and she cheers up once more. I’m so very glad he’s there with her.

We still have a few hours before the Capitol residents will be up and our stylists will take some of that but I catch Finnick’s eye and gesture for him to follow me. I owe him a better apology than the one I gave him but he doesn’t want Annie to know what happened. He places a hand on her shoulder as he stands and Portia moves to sit beside her. We carry our trays over to the Avoxes by the door and go out into the gym. 

I’ve avoided most of the places where the tributes train until now and stop for a moment, overwhelmed by memories. There, the spot where Peeta painted his arm. Up there, the place where I shot the arrow at the gamemakers. There, the spot where I first noticed Rue. There had been so many of us and now they’re all dead. I’m the only one left. Fresh indignation flows through me again as I reflect again just how wrong this whole thing is. How many of the country’s children have they killed? I’ve never done the math before but I run through it now. Twenty-four tributes in seventy-three years plus forty-eight for the last Quarter Quell is…I look at Finnick in horror and say, “One thousand eight hundred children have come through this room.”

He looks startled and I can tell he’s never done the math, either. He runs through it in his head just like I did and says, “That’s over seventeen hundred dead tributes.”

We stare at each other for a long moment and I say, “I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“It’s okay, Katniss,” he says. “I probably would have done the same thing if it was Annie.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this, Finnick,” I tell him, sinking down onto one of the training mats. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive losing her.”

“One day at a time,” he says, sitting down beside me and putting his arm around my shoulder. If I ignore our surroundings, it feels almost like sitting with Gale and I lean into him a little bit, giving in for a moment to the need to be comforted. “They killed our mom,” he says after a moment. “That’s what really made Annie…the way she is. They wanted her to…you know…and she refused and they killed our mother.”

 _We have to stop this_ , I think but I can’t say it because there are cameras everywhere and everything we say is being monitored. Instead, I say, “I’m so sorry.”

“Doesn’t really feel like a victory, does it?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “It doesn’t. I don’t think it’s supposed to.”

“Meet me up on the training roof tonight?” he asks quietly. “I need to breathe but there’s no time today.”

“Okay,” I say. 

We get up and go our separate ways. Haymitch is in the sitting room, watching a replay of the morning’s events. He looks up as I come in and says, “You all right, sweetheart? I bet that was a tense few minutes.”

I tell him what I did to Finnick and about sending the bread. He nods and pats the seat beside him. On the screen, the careers are hunting one of the other tributes. I check to make sure it isn’t mine and realize that I have extended the definition of ‘mine’ to include Dahlia. It’s stupid, I know, and can only lead to heartache. I can’t save her any more than I can save Prim and I can’t even really help her. It’s just going to hurt me when she dies. But she saved my sister and if I lose Prim and Gale, I hope it’s her that wins.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the day is fairly uneventful. Gale hunts, trusting Dahlia fully now with Prim, at least for the moment. We attend more parties. We watch the Games. The careers catch the tribute they were looking for. Twelve are dead. Half the field is gone. Twelve, Seven, and Two are the only districts left with both tributes alive. Ten, Six, and Three have lost both of their tributes. Their mentors will remain until the end of the Games so that they can participate in interviews but they no longer have anyone to look out for.

After the last party, I find Finnick on the roof. He’s sitting in the garden with a rope in his hands. I approach hesitantly and take a seat beside him. He doesn’t acknowledge me and just keeps making knots and untying them again. I watch his hands move. His fingers are quick, flying over the rope too swiftly for me to see what, exactly, he’s doing. Tiny muscles flex as he works. He isn’t looking at the rope. His eyes are trained instead on a spot in the grass and I get the impression that he’s not entirely present. It isn’t the faraway look that Annie gets but instead one of someone lost deeply in thought. I’m not even certain he realizes I’m here.

I’ve decided that he doesn’t want me around right now and have begun to get up when he says, “Stay.” I sit again and lean back on my hands but he doesn’t speak right away. I go back to watching him as he continues to stare at the grass. Finally, he says, “How did we get here, Katniss?”

“Our names were drawn,” I answer.

“No,” he says. “That’s not what I mean. As a country, how did we get to the place where we could allow almost two thousand of our children to be sent here to fight and die for the entertainment of an elite few? How is it that no one has stood up and said, ‘This is not okay’? How can we just stand by and do nothing?”

The things he’s saying would have him killed in an instant if President Snow found out. He’s speaking treason. These thoughts are what drive uprisings and rebellions. The amount of trust he’s placing in me not to inform on him is staggering. Or, maybe, he just doesn’t care anymore. No, that can’t be it. Without him, who would protect Annie? He knows I won’t tell anyone. Perhaps he could see the same sentiment reflected in my own eyes in the gym this morning.

“I don’t know,” I say. I mean, we all get taught the history of the uprisings and the beginnings of the Games and I know that by keeping us separate, they keep us divided and weakened, but is that really enough? We aren’t allowed to have weapons. We aren’t trained to fight. We are a country of civilian slaves ruled by a dictator with an army at his back. We can’t change it. I think it’s that hopelessness that is our biggest weakness. “Does it matter?” I ask.

“It matters,” he says. 

“What good would it do us to know, though?” I ask. “We can’t do anything about it.”

He tosses his rope on the ground between his legs and looks at me. “What if we could?”

“Why talk about it, Finnick?” I ask, growing agitated. This sounds like the questions that Gale asks in the woods and, while the wind and the sound of windchimes covers our voices, I am still afraid that someone might be listening. I am afraid for him. 

“Answer me, Katniss,” he says. “Would you change it if you could?”

“Of course I would,” I whisper sharply and he relaxes visibly. I don’t know why it matters so much to him since there really isn’t anything we can do but I’m glad the lost look is out of his eyes. 

I care far too much about the victor in front of me. The realization startles me. I don’t yet fully trust him and I know that we would turn on each other in an instant if it meant keeping our tributes alive but somehow Finnick Odair has managed to worm his way into my heart. That is far more dangerous than thinking of his tribute as one of my own. Caesar was right when he said that getting too close to me was a good way to get burned. Everyone I care about is in mortal danger. On the heels of that thought comes another. Finnick is already in danger. He is as much a slave to the Capitol as I am and is no safer than me. He, at least, is one person who isn’t made less safe by association with me.

He lays his head in my lap and looks up at the sky. I’m startled but my fingers idly thread through his hair the way I do for Prim. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath and I realize that he is just as much in need of comfort as the rest of us. He, too, has nowhere he feels truly safe. I, at least, have the woods. I wonder if he has anywhere like that back home. I find myself curious about his life and wondering how different it is from mine. I have the feeling that it isn’t much.

“If you ignore the chimes and the city noises, the wind sounds a little bit like the waves coming into shore,” he says. “Have you ever been to the ocean?”

“Once,” I tell him. “They took me to it on the victory tour.” I sit quietly and listen and I think I can hear what he’s talking about. The buildings around us buffer the wind and the sound of it rushing around us is actually a little bit like the sound of the waves. It isn’t the hard crash of the big ones but the gentle rush of the smaller ones. 

I tell him that and he nods. “I love lying on the beach in the sand and listening to the waves,” he says. “It’s peaceful. It’s even better offshore when there’s nothing but the boat and the water all around. Sometimes, I imagine that I could just keep going forever, find an island or something and disappear. But I can’t do that to Annie and Mags.”

“I think about running away into the woods,” I admit to him. 

“I think we all do at some point,” he says. “You know I was Annie’s mentor, right?”

“No,” I say. It suddenly makes sense to me why he’s been so nice to me and why he told his tributes not to kill Prim unless they had to and why he proposed an alliance. He’s been where I am only his sister wasn’t marked for death by the president. “How did you handle it?”

“A lot like you are now,” he says, looking up at me. His green eyes glitter in the dark. “I tried not to think about it. I focused on finding sponsors for her. I got into fistfights with other mentors. I woke up about a hundred times every night just to make sure she was still alive.”

On impulse, I move his head out of my lap. He watches as I lie down in the grass beside him. When he figures out what I’m doing, he puts his arm out and lets me lay my head on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, steady and soothing, and he holds me like I do Prim. “I’m scared,” I admit because I can, because he already knows. “I’m so scared every minute of every day.”

“I know,” he says and his arms tighten around me. 

We lie there until the air begins to cool and I start to shiver. He tucks my hair behind my ear and nudges me into a sitting position. We get up and go to the elevator. When it stops at my floor, I hesitate. My feet shuffle and I bite my lip. I don’t want to go to my room and lie in that big bed all alone. Lying in his arms on the roof, I’d felt safe for the first time in as long as I could remember, maybe even since my father died. I know it’s an illusion because none of us are safe but tonight I want to hold onto the illusion. 

I finally look up at him and my voice shakes a little as I say, “Finnick, will you stay with me?”

His reaction makes me think he was hoping I would ask. He nods without hesitation and walks out of the elevator with me. Haymitch is sitting in the living room with a bottle of white liquor on the table and a glass in his hand. He does a double-take when he sees us and I half-expect him to protest like an overprotective father but he doesn’t and I think maybe he understands. I take Finnick’s hand and lead him to my room. He kicks his shoes off and crawls into bed and I follow without bothering to change my clothes. His arm is already extended and I go to him, putting my head back on his chest. 

He reaches over and turns on the television and I look over to ensure that our tributes are still all right. They’ve made another snow cave and I know that Gale hates being tethered to the ground but the snow on the branches of the trees means they still can’t risk climbing. Prim is curled up behind him and he and Dahlia sit at the mouth of the cave, chewing on soft pine bark. I can see that they’re talking but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Dahlia shivers and Gale holds open his blanket. She moves closer to him and her lack of hesitation tells me that she’s decided he’s trustworthy. She leans her head on his shoulder and her eyes close. Gale’s stay open and alert, watching out for danger. 

Around the arena, others are bedding down for the night as well. Usually, at least one or two tributes will hunt at night but in this one, the cold is so sharp that it makes fingers numb and footsteps clumsy. There’s no point to doing anything but focusing on surviving the night. Some huddle in groups for warmth. Others curl up in sleeping bags and blankets. Some burrow into the snow and some lie on top of it. One girl has found a hollow log and she climbs into it to shelter from the wind. All is quiet. I turn back to Finnick and close my eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

To say that Effie is scandalized to find Finnick in my bed would be an understatement. She’s only partially mollified to see that we both have our clothes on and I know that I can expect a lecture from her at some point. Finnick grins at me as Effie ushers him out and Haymitch leans up against his doorway, woken by her voice. He glares at her and says, “She’s a grown girl, Effie. Who cares if she spends the night with a boy?”

“It isn’t appropriate!” Effie says. “She is far too young for boys!”

“I’ve killed people, Effie,” I say. Really, sometimes I just don’t understand Capitol people.

Finnick’s still grinning at me and he says, “Nothing happened, Miss Trinket. Katniss’ honor is still intact, I promise.”

“It isn’t her honor I’m worried about,” Effie sniffs and I suddenly think she means my reputation is her concern. 

“Who’s going to say anything?” I ask. “You? Haymitch? The Avoxes?”

Finnick grows serious and puts his hand on Effie’s arm. “I’m not going to hurt her, Effie.”

“You’d better not,” Effie says, sounding as serious as she can with her sea green wig and Capitol accent. “If you do, I’ll…I’ll…well, I’ll make you regret it, Finnick Odair. Katniss has been through enough.”

“I know,” Finnick says. He winks at me and gets on the elevator with a, “See you in a few hours, Katniss.”

I sit through Effie’s lecture, a little more patient once I’ve realized she’s just worried about him breaking my heart. I don’t know if she knows what some of the victors are required to do and it makes sense that she would be worried if she really believes his reputation. It’s kind of sweet, really, but there are much graver dangers to my heart than Finnick Odair. I’m far more concerned about Prim and Gale.

They’ve made it through the night and Gale is hunting when I go down for breakfast. It’s storming here in the Capitol and that means that most people will be at home watching the Games. Haymitch has warned me to be prepared to call on our sponsors because if it’s a slow day in the arena, the gamemakers are certain to do something to kick up the excitement. I’d never thought about the possibility that something as arbitrary as the weather in the Capitol could affect what happened in the Games but it makes a certain kind of sense. If people are stuck at home watching, they will want entertainment and a slow day will draw a slew of complaints.

The girl from Five froze to death overnight. I doubt that will qualify as excitement to the residents of the Capitol. There was a year when that had happened to many of the tributes because there hadn’t been any fuel for fires and it’s widely considered one of the dullest Games in history. Since then, they either make sure there’s some kind of fuel or that the arena is warm enough that it doesn’t happen again. 

The parties today are poorly attended as no one seems to want to go out in the rain and we don’t pick up any new sponsors. I’m upset by this until Haymitch reminds me that we’ve only used one so far and we’re still in a good spot. Still, the only reason for attending the parties is sponsors and it feels like a waste of time. Annie’s having a bad day, so Finnick spends most of his time with her. That means that when I’m not talking to patrons, I’m stuck with Haymitch and he’s preoccupied with his friend from Eleven. I finally give up and wander over to the tables.

The girl from Seven comes up beside me and plucks a shrimp off of my plate and pops it into her mouth. She looks at me archly as if challenging me to do something about it and I wonder what her problem is. Then I remember the way she watched Finnick and I think that it’s probably because of him. I’ve certainly never done anything to her myself to earn her dislike. I expect her to say something but she doesn’t. She just smirks and walks away. 

Finnick finds me a few minutes later. “Where’s Annie?” I ask.

“She went back to the Training Center,” he says. “She doesn’t like thunder. What was Johanna doing?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “She didn’t say anything.”

He glances over at her and back at me and says, “She and I have been friends for a long time. I think she wants it to be more than that but I don’t feel the same way about her.”

I nod because I understand it. Gale was jealous of Peeta during the Games. He hasn’t talked about it much but some of his comments made a lot more sense after his revelation on the roof that last night. Finnick and Johanna are probably a lot like Gale and me. I’m pretty sure that Gale would be upset by the attention Finnick’s been paying to me. I’m irritated by it for a moment until I turn it around and think about how I would feel if I only got to see Gale a few times a year and he was suddenly hanging around another girl instead of me. I’m not in love with Gale but the thought still makes me angry and I understand Johanna’s attitude toward me a lot better.

“You should spend some time with her,” I tell him. “She probably just misses you.”

“I don’t want to give her ideas,” he says. “Maybe later.”

We return to the Training Center and I’m beginning to worry because it’s after lunch and nothing much has happened in the arena. People at the party were growing bored and I can only imagine what the attitude is among those at home. If nothing happens soon, the gamemakers will act. The other mentors seem to have the same idea because, while it’s currently uneventful, we’re all gathered in the lobby watching our tributes closely.

Gale has had a good hunting day and they are set for food. He is apparently unhappy with their water situation, though, because when I find them, he’s chipping away at an ice floe with his knife. I start thinking about sending him an ice pick again, not because it would give a message but because it would make things easier on them and save his knife. It has to be getting dull by now and I don’t want them to lose a good weapon. The bow is great for long-range but he has nothing but the knife for close quarters.

Something seems to startle them because they all three look up at the same time and begin to look around. The camera pans to the mountain above them and my heart skips a beat at the sight of the roiling white wave that begins to pour down the mountainside toward them. Prim points to it and Gale grabs her hand in one of his and Dahlia’s in the other and they begin to run. Behind them, the avalanche is picking up speed. They are now in the center of the screen and we can hear the roar of the snow and the booming cracks of trees as they go down under the weight of it. 

The avalanche is kicking out clods of snow that splatter their backs now and they’ve angled to try to get out of its path. I am screaming inside but on the outside I am frozen in place. I vaguely register Haymitch, Cinna and Portia, Effie, and others gathering around me. Someone puts his hand in mine and I know without looking that it is Finnick because it’s squeezing too hard to be comforting. We are both leaning slightly forward as if we can lend speed to our tributes. 

They’re gaining ground and almost at the edge of the danger zone and I think they’re going to make it until Prim trips over something hidden in the snow. Gale skids to a stop and turns, reaching for her. Dahlia looks up at the approaching avalanche and screams at Gale to hurry. Prim is clutching her leg and I can see from the way her pant leg sits that it is broken. Gale is trying to gather her up when the wave hits them. Dahlia is knocked back against a snow bank and Gale is thrown up against a tree. Prim disappears completely.


	14. Chapter 14

“Prim!” I scream, running up to the screen and searching desperately for any sign of her. Dahlia is on her feet and she goes to Gale to help him up. He’s moving slowly and I think he’s had the wind knocked out of him because he doesn’t look hurt, just stunned. I still can’t see Prim. Where she was is now a blanket of white. Gale looks out over the snow and I can hear him shouting her name. Dahlia calls for her as well. 

I’m shaking and crying and when Gale says, “No cannon. There’s no cannon,” I am confused until I figure out what he means. There’s no cannon. She’s still alive, at least for now. 

They wade into the snow to the approximate point where she was last seen and begin digging furiously at it with their hands. My heart is pounding in my chest and I don’t care that Haymitch is squeezing my shoulder or that Cinna is running his hand over my hair or that Effie is chanting, “Please find her. Please find her.” All I can focus on is the snow. 

People have survived avalanches before. Snow is porous so it’s possible to breathe. However, the weight of it can be crushing and with this substance, if she happens to ingest any of it, it’ll kill her before they find her. Survival is not a guarantee and is more unlikely than not if they can’t find her quickly. They are trying. I can see them trying. A few weeks ago, I couldn’t have imagined any situation in which I would wish to be in the arena but I am wishing for it with everything I am now. I want to be there, to help them search for her. I have never felt so helpless in my life. 

They search for hours. When their hands get too cold, they blow on them to warm them up. They pause only to take sips of water from the skin and Dahlia pulls out strips of meat and feeds them to Gale even as he’s digging. If they get tired, they push through it. Dahlia uses her spear and Gale his bow to poke down into the snow in search of resistance. It’s sheer luck that keeps them from being attacked because neither of them are standing guard. Their entire focus is on finding Prim. 

My team and Finnick never leave my side. The other victors, even the ones who don’t particularly care for me, come up to me and try to offer encouragement. They remind me that there’s no cannon. They bring me water to drink. The male District Three mentor whose name I can’t remember but Johanna calls Volts comes up and begins asking me questions about her height and weight and starts calculating how long she can survive given the current temperatures, the thickness of the snow over her at her probable depth, and other factors I can’t follow. I want to yell at him to shut up until I realize that he’s saying she has longer than I might think and is attempting to reassure me. 

I am not surprised by Gale’s dedication but I am by Dahlia’s. Her determination goes beyond that of a temporary alliance and reminds me again of myself. She is doing exactly what I would have done had this happened to Rue and me. I never would have given up until I’d found her and I am certain that Dahlia will not, either. Again, I owe her a debt I can never repay and I think that if Gale and Prim can’t, I want her to win. 

The cameras never cut away from Gale and Dahlia. I imagine that everyone in the Capitol is riveted even if they are only digging through snow. As several people have pointed out to me, everyone loves Prim even if they aren’t betting on her to win. I hear sniffles beside me and look over to see that my prep team has come down and they are crying softly. Venia reaches out and takes my hand. Flavius and Octavia dab at their eyes. I think that they are even more fond of Prim than they had been of me and, for some reason, it is their reaction that means the most.

I am still watching the screen when the lobby begins to fill with people. Everyone wants to be here to see my reaction. Haymitch was right. They want to witness my grief firsthand. Cinna drags me away with the promise that he’ll let me dress in a room with a television and that I’ll be notified directly the moment anything changes. I pay no attention to him as he and the preps get me dressed. They work around me as I stare at the screen, willing Gale to find my sister. I don’t even know what he’s put me in when I return to the lobby and join the crowd.

Finally, as the sun is beginning to lower in the sky, Gale gives a shout. Dahlia rushes to him and they redouble their efforts. I am leaning forward again and I’m sure my grip on Finnick’s hand is painful but he doesn’t protest. I can hear him beside me saying softly, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

I glance around the room to find every citizen and every mentor, even the careers, watching intently. I don’t know that they’re all pulling for her but I think they might be. No one likes it when one of the younger kids is chosen and nobody is happy when they die. They want her death only because it gives their tributes a better chance to win. It isn’t personal. With someone like Prim, they usually want her to make it as long as possible because she isn’t really a threat and they don’t truly want to see her go. 

Gale shouts again and I see something revealed in the hole he has made. He gives a tug and I see an arm. Dahlia digs out around her as Gale pulls her out. She is limp and tinged with blue and, for a moment, I think she is dead before I remember that the cannon still hasn’t sounded. She’s unconscious and hypothermic but she’s alive. Gale opens his coat and strips Prim’s off of her. Dahlia removes her own and gives it to him. He wraps her in it as Dahlia pulls out a blanket and wraps it around her own shoulders before getting another. Gale pulls Prim into his arms and zips his coat around her and Dahlia puts the second blanket around them. He carries her into the woods at a jog.

“She’s alive,” I whisper. 

“Not for long,” someone behind me says. “Not unless they can get a fire going. The temperature is dropping.”

Gale apparently decides the same thing because they stop in a small clearing and he sends Dahlia in search of wood as he briskly chafes his hands over Prim’s still form, trying to get the blood flowing. She doesn’t move. I can see the urgency in his face and Dahlia is moving quickly, digging wood out of the snow. She looks toward Gale with dismay on her face. “It’s all wet!” she calls out, sounding distressed. He tells her to bring it anyway and to use his knife to cut down branches. Wet and green wood isn’t going to be easy to get started and it’s going to create a lot of smoke. They need dry tinder. This, at least, is something I can do.

I leap to my feet and go to the procurement official. Unfortunately, the money from the Hob and the Peacekeepers isn’t enough even for flint and steel. I’m going to have to go to one of our sponsors. I think of Octavius and look around for him. It’s an anxious few seconds until I spot him across the room. I go to him at just short of a run and say quickly, “I need matches or flint and steel and dry wood if I can get it.”

The slow shake of his head makes my stomach clench as he says, “I’m very sorry, Katniss, but my sponsorship offer was for Gale.”

I look around wildly but none of Prim’s handful of sponsors is here. “Please, Octavius,” I say. I’m not too proud to beg when it comes to Prim. “That’s my _sister_. I’ll do anything. I’ll…I’ll…I’ll be your date for tomorrow’s party.” The idea is revolting but I am desperate. 

His eyes light with interest and travel over my body. I suppress the urge to shudder at his open perusal. He says, “Now.”

“Now?” I ask. “But she can’t wait!”

He says, “If you accompany me now, I will instruct the procurement official to send matches, flint and steel, and dry wood to them this very minute.”

I look over at the screen. Prim is still lying in Gale’s arms and he is begging Dahlia to hurry as she tries to coax heat from two pieces of wood that are clearly too wet to create a spark. Prim is dying. I feel dizzy as I look back at Octavius and say, “All right.”

He smiles widely and puts his arm around my waist. I want to run but he walks casually up to the procurement official and places his order for the gift. The official nods once and begins to type something into a computer on the counter. My eyes return to the screen and I watch as Octavius directs me out of the room. I’m not watching where we’re going. My head is craned in the direction of the screen and I breathe an explosive sigh of relief as I hear Gale call out and see him point up at the silver parachute drifting down toward them. It is only then that I realize that Octavius is directing me toward one of the dressing rooms. As we reach the doorway, I look back to the screen one more time. Dahlia has the package and is opening it. My head turns and the last thing I see before the doorway is Finnick watching me with a mournful expression on his face. He mouths something but I can’t hear him and I don’t know what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss' interlude with Octavius is not going to be described in detail but this is the scene I put the mention of dub-con in for.


	15. Chapter 15

I can still feel Octavius’ hands on my body, smell his sweet breath in my nose, taste him in my mouth when I return to the lobby. I am stiff and sore and I’m a little bit afraid to sit down but mostly I’m just worried about Prim. I can’t think about what just transpired. I can’t think about his soft body pressing into me, his face changing color with effort, his animalistic grunts in my ear. I figured out what Finnick was saying somewhere around the time that my sapphire dress dropped to the floor. 

_Go somewhere else._ I did my best to take his advice but it wasn’t easy. I tried imagining myself at the lake but the idea that it could be sullied by the man’s presence made me pull away from that image. So, instead, I just pretended it was a dream, that it wasn’t really happening, that I was trapped in another nightmare and would wake up and it would all be over. Now it is and I’m determined not to think about it. 

Finnick meets me halfway across the lobby. He takes my hand in his and looks deep into my eyes. “She’s still alive,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say stiffly and I pull my hands out of his because I feel dirty and, while I know that he’s been forced to do this before, too, I still don’t want to sully him any more than I did my lake. I can’t touch him while I still have Octavius’ perfume clinging to my hands. He seems to understand because he lets me go but stays close while we walk over to the screens. 

Haymitch looks at me in concern and Cinna gently straightens my hair and my dress. He says, “We’ll go upstairs in a minute. I’ll watch over Prim while you get cleaned up.”

I nod absently. My attention isn’t on him or the others anymore. It’s on Prim. She’s awake. Her lips are still blue and her face is pale and ashen but she’s sitting by the fire wrapped in blankets and holding her hands out to the heat. Gale and Dahlia are keeping a close watch. They know they aren’t safe with the fire in the dark but it was necessary. Prim wouldn’t have survived the night without it. 

Dahlia kneels down and takes something off of the fire. She’s made soup or something because she tests the side of the pot and then puts it in the snow for a minute to cool it. Its contents are still steaming and she seems happy with the temperature of the metal because she presses the pot to Prim’s lips. Prim drinks eagerly and Dahlia runs a hand over her hair in much the same way that I did Rue. Prim gives her a weak smile but it’s the same one she gives me and my throat tightens. I wish I could tell the District Four tribute how grateful I am to her for her kindness but I know I don’t need to. She isn’t doing it for me or for gratitude or sponsorships or gifts. Maybe she has a little sister at home who looks a bit like Prim. Maybe she just has a soft spot for kids. Maybe she’s just a truly good person. Whatever it is, I think she and I would have been friends if we’d come from the same district. 

Gale looks over at them and his face softens. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before. I can picture him sitting in the meadow back home with no fences and no Peacekeepers, giving that same soft smile to a woman kneeling beside a dark-haired child with gray eyes that looks like him. It’s what he should have had. It’s what we all should have been able to have. Whatever love he thought he had for me, I’m certain has been forgotten. 

Dahlia looks up at him and I see the same look reflected on her face and think: _This is it. This is the real story of the star-crossed lovers. Peeta and I were just pretending._ My heart hurts for him because I know that this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Gale may survive but there will be a large part of his heart that will never leave this arena because it’s not just Prim he’s going to lose anymore. I am certain that Snow is delighted and this has only helped Gale’s chances of winning. The president loves to use the vulnerable against the victors and a broken Gale is one I will do anything to protect.

He and Dahlia trade places and I see his hand come out to run down her arm as she passes him. She smiles up at him and then takes up the watch as Gale sits down beside Prim. He puts his arm around her shoulders and presses his lips to her hair. She leans into him and I hear her say, “I want to go home, Gale.”

“I know you do, Little Duck,” he says, using my name for her. “It won’t be long now. We’re halfway there. Just a few more days.”

“I miss my mom,” she says. “And I miss Katniss. I wish she was here.”

“She is,” he says and gestures to the fire. “She’s right there. That warmth you feel, that’s hers. She’s looking out for you and she’ll be hugging you before you know it.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “I mean, I’m not really but I am at the same time.”

“I know what you mean,” he says. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“No one else would have gotten me out of there,” she says. “It was dark and cold and I was so scared. But I knew you’d find me. I knew you wouldn’t leave me there.”

“Not in a million years,” he says warmly. His voice drops to a stage whisper and he nudges her and says, “I’m too scared of your big sister to leave you behind.”

She laughs brightly at that and the sight of it makes me grin. I forget all about Octavius. It was worth every bit of it to see her alive, laughing and happy where she’d been cold and blue only an hour before. My hand reaches out to the screen and I trace her smile with my fingertips. When the blood flies out of her mouth, it looks like it lands on my fingers.

I am on my knees even before the cannon fires. The room around me devolves into chaos. Octavia faints. Haymitch is shouting and I hear Effie gasp. It all seems to happen in slow motion. Gale looks at her in horror. Dahlia shouts a warning too late and throws her spear into the dark. Another cannon booms. She races in to retrieve it as Gale’s hand goes to the knife buried in the back of Prim’s neck. His hand comes away bloody and he stares at it in shock. Dahlia screams, “Gale! Help me!” and he turns his head in her direction. I see a plethora of emotions ranging from grief to fury pass over his face in an instant and then his bow is in his hand and the arrow is leaving it even as he turns. Prim’s body falls into the snow.


	16. Chapter 16

I am surrounded by people. Someone is holding me while I scream Prim’s name. His arms are solid around me and I think he’s saying my name but I can’t hear him over my own voice. Behind me, Haymitch shouts, “You son of a bitch!” and I hear the thud of flesh hitting flesh. Others shout his name and a scuffle breaks out. I don’t look. I don’t care. My eyes are locked on the still and lifeless body of my sister. People are weeping but I can’t cry. I can only scream and scream. Prim is dead and everything good in the world has gone with her.

I know there’s fighting around her. I know that Gale kills someone, that he dodges the swing of an axe and drives his knife into the tribute’s throat. I know that there is blood splashing crimson on the snow. From the corner of my eye, I see Dahlia throw her net. I watch the boy from District Two catch it and pull her toward him and then see his sword bury itself in her belly. He pulls it out and she staggers back, clutching her stomach. The girl from District Two throws a knife and it lodges in Dahlia’s chest. She falls to the ground and the cannon fires again. 

Gale has taken advantage of their distraction once it was clear he could not save Dahlia and has wrapped something around his arrowhead. He dips it in the fire and draws the flaming arrow back. He fires it at one of the tributes and it hits its mark. The flames spread quickly and the tribute staggers blindly, a human torch lighting the night. It is enough to send the rest of the attackers running. Gale draws another arrow and aims it at the tribute as she goes to her knees but instead of letting it fly, he simply watches until the tribute stops moving and the cannon fires again. 

When it is clear, Gale goes to Prim and gathers her up into his arms. The sound of his wail fills the night and the grief in it echoes my own. He rocks her back and forth, brushing the snow from her hair, and curls over her, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. I can hear him chanting, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” and I don’t know if it’s meant for me or for her.

It is a long time before he straightens. Dahlia still lies where she fell behind him, too close for the hovercraft to collect at the moment. He cuts a corner off of one of the blankets and packs it with snow which he holds close to the fire until it melts and then uses the wet cloth to wash the blood off of the back of Prim’s neck. He then lays her on the ground near the fire but far enough from it so that she can be picked up and tucks the blanket around her as if he’s tucking her into bed. He wipes the blood from her face and kisses her forehead gently. Finally, he takes my mockingjay pin from her jacket and tucks it into his pocket. 

He then moves to Dahlia. He stares down at her for a long moment before lifting her from the ground and cradling her against his chest. His eyes close and then he carries her over and lays her beside Prim. He places her spear over her belly and clasps her hands over it so that they cover her wound. I see him look around for a moment and then he retrieves her net and drapes it over her like a blanket. Her eyes are open and he closes them gently and strokes her cheek. The knees of his pants are soaked by the time he stands. He collects the gear and consolidates what he needs into one pack. He places the other beside Prim. Then, he presses his three middle fingers to his lips and holds them out to both Prim and Dahlia.

When he raises his head again, there is no trace of sadness on his face. There is only a deep and abiding rage, a fury that drives all else away. His voice is dark and full of promise as he says loudly, “I swear to you, Katniss, I will make them all pay.” 

I can feel my face contort into a snarl and my voice is thick and harsh when I say, “Good.”

I watch numbly as Prim and Dahlia’s bodies are collected and Gale has settled himself into a tree for the night. Now that he is alone, he doesn’t have to worry about dislodging the snow on the boughs. He is heavy but moves lightly enough that not a flake falls. He belts himself in as I’m sure he saw me do during my Games and then he stares up at the sky. His ferocity is gone and in its place is the same bleakness I felt when Rue died. I imagine it must be worse because he truly cared for Dahlia, because he’d known Prim all her life, because he knows that I am grieving, because his back was turned to the threat. 

I don’t blame him though a part of me wishes I could. I don’t blame Dahlia, either. The hunters were in the dark. Her night vision was hindered by the glow of the fire. They were backlit while the hunters were in shadow. She could not have seen them before they saw her. Even if Gale had been facing toward them, it would have been too late. There was nothing they could have done. The fire had been necessary. My sister was dead the moment the avalanche began. It was not the careers that killed her, though the girl from District Two threw the knife. It was the gamemakers and, above them, it was President Snow from whom I am certain the order came. I vow to myself that I will take his life in payment for hers. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I will find a way and he will die by my hand.

It is Finnick’s arms that surrounded me and he eventually releases me so that Cinna, Haymitch, and Effie can escort me to our quarters. Haymitch’s knuckles are bloody and bruised but I feel nothing more than bland curiosity when I see them. Finnick trails after us as if uncertain of his welcome but unsure of what else to do. I can’t bring myself to care whether he stays or he goes. Cinna leads me into the bathroom as the preps had to be taken away earlier because they were in such a state. 

I feel no shame as he washes me. When it comes to my body, we have no secrets, Cinna and I. I have never seen the slightest flicker of desire or acknowledgement of me as a female in his eyes when he looks at me. He is probably the only person other than my mother that I would allow to do this. He gives me the cloth when he’s finished and turns away. I realize that he expects me to wash between my legs and wonder why until the vague memory of Octavius surfaces. I scrub then, wanting to rid myself of every bit of his touch. I wonder how Cinna knows this. Are the stylists also expected or forced to give favors? I know that the idea will matter more to me later but I won’t ask.

When I am dry and dressed in a nightgown, Cinna leads me to my room and tucks me into bed. It makes me think of the way Gale tucked in Prim for the final time, especially when he places a chaste kiss against my forehead. A tear trickles down my cheek. He brushes it away before leaving the room. I stare blankly at the ceiling until I hear voices outside of my door. Effie is saying something and then I hear Finnick reply, “She doesn’t need to be alone tonight.”

Haymitch says, “Let him go.” 

The door opens. Finnick comes in without speaking and waits for a moment, giving me the chance to send him away. When I don’t, he climbs in beside me and pulls me into his arms. I turn away from him but grab his hand when he would have moved. He settles in closer and his arms tighten around me. I reach out for the television control and turn it on. I need to see Gale, to reassure myself that he is still there, that the careers haven’t found him again. 

He is still in his tree. There is something in his hands and he stares down at it. A parachute lies forgotten on his lap. Finnick says softly, “He was apologizing to you. Over and over. I remembered what you said about messages and I thought he needed to know you don’t hate him. It isn’t much but I had them send a loaf of bread from your district. And then I thought about the loaf from District Eleven after Rue died and had them add in one from mine. I wanted to thank him for taking care of Dahlia.”

I nod. I know I’ll appreciate the gesture eventually and be grateful to him for taking care of Gale when I can’t but right now I’m too numb to feel anything. Gale looks up as the anthem begins to play. The death count begins and my chest tightens. The girl from District Two. That must have been the one Gale burned because she was one who killed Prim and Dahlia. Dahlia. Finnick’s arm tightens and I squeeze his hand. Both of his tributes are gone now. 

I hear him make a choking sound when both of the tributes from Seven appear. The boy was the one Gale killed with the knife. The girl must have been the one Dahlia hit with her spear. I wonder why they were there with the careers and then remember Johanna’s smirk. She must have arranged an alliance. Prim’s face flashes up in the sky and the cameras show Gale lifting his hands, still holding the bread, to his face. I close my eyes tightly, unable to bear seeing her picture in the sky, and Finnick makes what I think is supposed to be a soothing sound and kisses the back of my head.

After the anthem, they replay the highlights of the day. Once again, I see the blood splatter out of Prim’s mouth and then the camera cuts to me. I hadn’t thought about them filming me but I see myself go from smiling to screaming in an instant and watch Finnick lunge for me. It’s like watching it happen to someone else. His expression catches me off-guard. He didn’t know Prim. I wouldn’t have expected pain from him over her death but it’s there all the same. I see Effie’s hand fly to her mouth, see Octavia faint, see Flavius and Venia grab each other, see Cinna drop to his knees beside me and Portia’s hand go to his shoulder. I see the mentor from District Two say something and Haymitch shout and throw himself at him. It’s all very dramatic and terribly exciting. 

Johanna catches my eye and I sit up, looking closer. She doesn’t look happy or satisfied as I’d expected. She looks stunned. Behind me, Finnick says, “She didn’t know.” He sounds as surprised as I feel and I think I hear some relief there, too. I realize he’d thought she’d betrayed him and think again of how I would feel if it were Gale and me. The emotion is fleeting, though, overwhelmed by everything else and I tentatively erase her from my growing kill list and lie back down on the bed. I don’t want to see any more, so I turn to face Finnick and lay my head on his chest where I can feel his heartbeat. For the second time in a week, I cry myself to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

I wake slowly and at first, I think that the arms around me are Peeta’s. Then I look down at the bronze skin and realize it’s Finnick. He’s already awake and he says, “Gale’s on the move.” I open my eyes and look at the screen. Gale is, in fact, moving. He has the bread Finnick sent in one hand and a length of rope in the other. My mockingjay glints in the sun from its spot on his jacket. Finnick says, “He’s been setting snares since dawn. Some of them are for animals but not all of them.”

“He’s going on the offense,” I say in a voice that’s hoarse from screams and tears.

It’s a good idea and morning has brought with it a new resolve for me as well. I will grieve for Prim later. I have the rest of my life in which to do so and I can’t afford it now. I must bring Gale home. I sit up and rub my face and then go into the bathroom to shower and dress for the day. There are only six tributes left. Interviews are done at the final eight. I will be expected to make an appearance, especially after Prim’s death. I need to be prepared. I will get every sponsor I can for Gale and I will do everything in my power to make sure that his picture never appears in the sky.

Finnick is still there when I come out and we go out together, not bothering to hide his presence in my room. To my surprise, Haymitch is already waiting and he is completely sober. He looks startled to see me and says, “Figured you’d stay in bed. You all right, sweetheart?”

“I can’t afford to lie around,” I say. “There are interviews today.”

He looks at me warily and says, “I figured I’d give them for you. Didn’t think you’d be up to it.”

I shake my head. “No. I’ll do it. Like you said, they’re going to want to feast on every bit of my pain. Let them do it and let them pay for it in sponsors. I will not let them take Gale from me, too. He’s coming home and I don’t care what price I have to pay to get him there.”

Haymitch nods as if he was already half expecting that reaction. Finnick and I go down to breakfast together. I am too tense to eat, so I pick at my food while I watch Gale set his traps. I feel a cold satisfaction when I see the mentor from District Two with his eye swollen shut. Haymitch has not forgotten how to fight. One by one, others come up to me to express how sorry they are. Annie gives me a hug. Chaff kisses my forehead. 

Johanna is the last and she seems stiff as she comes up to me, like she’s expecting a fight. She looks down at her hands and says, “I didn’t know. We don’t team up with the careers. I mean, Four sometimes but not One and Two. I don’t particularly like you but I wouldn’t have sent them after your sister.” She turns to Finnick and her voice turns pleading. “Finnick, you know I wouldn’t do that. Even if we aren’t in an alliance, I don’t send my kids after yours.”

“We know,” Finnick answers for both of us because I can’t speak. “You can’t control what they do once they get in there.”

After breakfast, he pulls me to him and places a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he says and I nod as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to expect him to be waiting for me even after the alliance is over.

When I return to my floor, Cinna rises from the couch and says, “All right, girl on fire. Let’s get to work.”

He dresses me all in black as is fitting for someone in mourning but it isn’t a flat, plain black. It is the black of banked coals, of fire gone dark but waiting only for the slightest puff of wind to set it ablaze again. I don’t quite glow but when he is finished with me, I give off the impression that I am simmering. I love the way that Cinna can take what’s inside of me and display it on the outside. I am down but not out. I am banked but not cold. I am tragic but with the potential for lethality. I am grief that can turn to rage in an instant. 

We go to the studio where the interviews are filmed in front of a live audience and I’m joined by the other mentors. The ones whose tributes have both died go first, so Finnick and Annie are ahead of Haymitch and me in line. I can see him talking to Johanna and they both look stilted and uncomfortable but they are talking. I’m glad. Finnick, like me, has so few real friends. I wouldn’t want him to lose one, especially not because of me. 

They finally call us up and I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. I don’t want to do this. It’s too reminiscent of last year after the Games when I was forced to sit and watch the replay even though I wanted nothing more than to run. Every year, they tell a story. Last year, it was the tragedy of a doomed love story. They focused on Peeta and me from the moment he announced his love for me until the moment my knees hit the floor of the hovercraft with the long beep of machinery on the other side. This year, I’m determined that it will be another kind of love story only it will be that of a de facto big brother protecting his little sister. When they tell it, they will show Gale and Prim, his best friend’s little sister whom he is determined to protect. They’ll show him guarding her and teaming up with Four to keep her safe. They’ll show him digging her out of the avalanche and warming her back to life only to watch her die. And then they’ll show his vengeance.

I was afraid while on stage last year. I am not this time. No longer a tribute, I am a victor. I am a mentor. I am determined to keep my tribute safe. If Caesar is surprised by my newfound confidence, he doesn’t show it. He wastes no time in getting to the heart of the matter. His voice is sympathetic when he says, “Katniss, I’ll be honest, I’m almost speechless after what happened last night. I think we all know what Prim meant to you and I think many, myself included, were hoping for a happier ending for her. I can’t stop thinking about the way you volunteered for her last year. I know you’d thought you were keeping her safe and I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”

“Thank you, Caesar,” I say and I mean it because I really do think he’s hurting for me. I take a deep breath and then I do what they’ve all been waiting for. I open up. I can’t stop my voice from cracking when I say, “I keep thinking of her as a little girl. She was so sweet and so bright. She was always happy. You saw her. Even in the arena, she could find a reason for joy. She died laughing and that’s what I’m holding onto. She died happy. She wasn’t afraid and it didn’t hurt. She was laughing with Gale and then she was just gone.” A tear falls down my face and I make no effort to hide it. Haymitch pats me awkwardly on the back as Caesar pats my leg.

He says, “I’ll admit, I was on the edge of my seat throughout the avalanche. I didn’t look away a single time. When they found her and got her back, I thought it was safe to relax. I’m sure you did, too.”

“No,” I say. “Not really. I knew the fire could draw other tributes. I knew it was dangerous. But we had to get her warm. I’d been worried there would be an attack. I just hadn’t expected them to target her. I thought it was Gale I needed to worry about.”

He nods. “Strategically, it seems like that would have made more sense. What do you think Gale is going to do now?”

“He’s going to fight,” I say, finally bringing my anger to the surface. “He’s going to fight and he’s going to make them pay. He’s like family to me and he loved Prim like a sister. He’s going to avenge her.”

“And the girl from District Four?” he asks. “I think we all saw the moment between them. It seemed almost like something was developing there. You know him best. What do you think?”

I answer, “I can’t be certain from here but I think that Peeta and I were not the only star-crossed lovers to come out of District Twelve. I know he came to care about her and I know that her death is only going to give him more of a reason to fight. Out of all of the other tributes, he had the most to lose and now he’s lost it and that only makes him even more dangerous because now he has nothing left to lose. He’ll win this thing, Caesar. You watch him. If I could bet, my money would be on him.”

“I’m sure,” Caesar says. “Haymitch, what do you think about all of this?”

Haymitch says, “I think that boy’s the deadliest thing in that arena now. They made a big mistake going after the girls instead of him. These Games will be over quick from here. The only chance the rest of them has is for everybody to team up against him and take him out and that won’t happen. There’s too little trust at this point.”

Caesar turns back to me. “Katniss, I’m seeing some parallels to what happened last year with you and Rue. Do you think it’s similar?”

I say, “Yes, Caesar. In a lot of ways, it is. I didn’t know Rue for that long, just like Gale didn’t know Dahlia for that long, but she touched my life in a way I’ll never forget and I’m sure Gale won’t forget Dahlia, either. I couldn’t save Rue even though I wanted to just like Gale couldn’t save Prim. And when Rue died, the only thing I could think of until the rule change was announced was getting revenge. Winning was no longer just about Prim. I had to do it for Rue, too.”

He nods and says, “I know we’ve discussed this before, but let’s go back to the moment you held out those berries. Now that some time has passed, what do you think was going on in your mind?”

I freeze. It’s only for a moment because I have to answer but I know that I have to get this right. It may seem like a tired question to those in the Capitol but this question is coming directly from President Snow himself and it will be the difference between Gale having a shot at living and Gale appearing in the sky no matter what else we do. Snow is still demanding that I appease the Districts, that I extinguish the slow burn rolling through the country before it becomes an inferno. He will know that Prim’s death will have lit that fire inside of me as well and I must now make a choice. Gale or vengeance.


	18. Chapter 18

I say carefully, “Caesar, I have gone back to that moment over and over in my mind and I’ve heard every theory out there as to why I did it. Some people seem to think that I never intended to eat the berries, that I just wanted to trick Peeta into doing it. I wasn’t. I didn’t need to. He was dying anyway. Some people think I was trying to…cheat the system somehow. I’ll admit that the revocation of the rule change took me by surprise and I was upset by it. But, in the end, I just didn’t want to live without him. If he’d died and I’d lived, I never would have left that arena. I would have spent the rest of my life there trying to figure out a way to change our stars.”

“A way to change your stars,” he repeats softly and I know I’ve done it. It won’t be enough to convince those in the Districts but maybe it will be enough to convince Snow that I’m at least trying, enough to get him to spare Gale. Then Caesar says, “But you did live without him.”

“I did,” I say, looking down at my hands. “It hasn’t been easy. I still think of him all the time. Everything reminds me of him. Sitting here now, I’m thinking about him asking you if he smelled like roses. When I’m at home and I see the sunlight fall through the trees in a certain way, I think about the way he camouflaged himself to hide from the careers. I wake up reaching for him at night, thinking we’re back in the cave. The smell of fresh bread will forever mean Peeta. He’s everywhere and I wish so much that I could have saved him.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says. “But your time together was so short and we all know that you are far too young for your heart to be broken forever. Has there been anyone new for you? We had thought for a while that it might be Gale but it appears that’s not the case after all.” I wonder where he’s going with this until his voice turns slightly teasing and he says, “I can’t help but notice that you’ve been seen in Finnick’s presence a good bit lately and I can tell you there’s a lot of hope in the Capitol that there’s something going on there. Two young, attractive victors such as yourselves. It could be quite the love story. He was a mentor during your games, you know. You killed one of his tributes with that tracker jacker nest. By rights, one would think you would be at odds but this year, your tributes were in an alliance and you’re working together. So much has been taken from you. Do you think that fate has perhaps chosen to give you another chance at happiness? After all, that was your sister’s wish for you.”

So many thoughts run through my head that it’s hard to catch them all and examine them. These are Snow’s words just like the ones before. There is a message here. I just have to figure out what it is. My first thought is that I have endangered Finnick after all. My next is that Snow is trying to find another hostage to hold against me should Gale fall. Or maybe that he’s trying to set me up to be given out as a reward. And after that comes the memory of him sitting in the library in my house in Victor’s Village. _I hope that we can be friends. If not friends, then allies._ I hear Finnick say, _I think we were all kind of hoping that the romance with Peeta would save you…maybe if he'd lived…_

And then I know. He has been watching me with Finnick. He knows how to read me. He knows that I care. I cannot deny that. Finnick is already a hostage but he is offering him to me in a treaty of sorts. The message here is simple. If I play his game, if I don’t cause trouble, he will stop. I can have him and my mother and possibly Gale as well. I can end the bloodshed. He will leave me alone. He will leave my loved ones alone. If a popular romance with Peeta could have saved me from becoming a prize in the Capitol, then a popular one with Finnick might save both of us. I could protect both Finnick and Gale. I think back to my conversation on the roof, my certainty that nothing we do can change anything. I think of my vow to kill Snow. It will be easier if he believes that I have caved, if he thinks that Prim’s death has broken me, to get in close to him. If he thinks he has won, then he will drop his guard. 

I don’t know how I feel about Finnick. I haven’t had time to analyze it. I can’t think about it while Gale is in the arena. But I know a negotiation when I see one and so I decide to give him terms. If he gives Gale back, I will fade into the background. I will accept his offer. I will play his game and take his side. And I will give him no reason to believe that I am going to his side only so that I can get close enough to put an arrow in his heart. 

I shift in my seat and my blush isn’t entirely faked as I say, “I don’t know, Caesar. Finnick has been a very good friend to me and I don’t know how I’d have gotten through the past few days without him but I can’t really think about anyone like that right now. All I can think about now that Prim is gone is getting Gale home. I have a responsibility to do that for him. If I could do that, if I didn’t have to worry about him…I don’t know. I can’t really be thinking about boys right now. It was one thing when Peeta and I were both in the arena but I don’t get to think about what I want right now. I have to focus on keeping my tribute alive.”

Caesar nods in understanding and says, “Well, you’ve certainly grown up, Katniss. Gale is lucky to have you as both a friend and a mentor. I’m sure you will do everything in your power to help him win.” 

“Of course, Caesar,” I say.

Haymitch and I leave the stage and once we’re in the back, he whispers, “Good answer.”

“Did you hear the same thing I did?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Smart of you to take the offer. At least for now.”

Finnick is waiting for me and his eyes are sparkling. He laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders. “‘Two attractive young victors,’ huh?” 

“Shut up, Finnick,” I say, blushing harder now that I’m looking at him. How to explain to him what that all meant? Do I even need to? Or did he hear the message himself? 

He grins wider and nuzzles my ear playfully but his voice is serious when he says, “Roof?”

I nod and playfully bat his arm away. He feigns a hurt look and blows me an exaggerated kiss before going off in search of Annie. I don’t know whether to feel relieved after the interview or more afraid. We’re expected at another party. I’m dreading it but at least I won’t have to pretend to be happy. Everyone will think I’m brave simply for showing up. I won’t need to put on a show. I can’t quite be me but I can be a bit more honest in my reactions than I normally am. 

One good thing about my situation is that no one expects me to be talkative. I accept condolences and talk Gale up and spend time watching the screen. Gale has set his traps but he hasn’t moved into action yet. I wonder what he’s waiting for and then it hits me. Nightfall. He’s going to hunt in the dark where no one will expect him because no one so far has been hunting at night. I can help him do that. I just need a few more sponsors. I find Haymitch and Finnick and tell them my plan. Finnick has no reason to help anymore but I think that, just like I wanted Dahlia to win if Gale and Prim couldn’t, he wants Gale to win now that Dahlia and Angus can’t. They agree it’s a good idea but warn me that the cost for one of the items I need will be extraordinary. I only hope that I don’t have to do a repeat of the performance with Octavius to get it. I’m still sore and feel dirty but that’s been overshadowed by everything that came after. Like Prim’s death, I’ll think about it later. 

Octavius is the one who approaches me. I’m afraid he is, in fact, going to ask for a repeat performance but instead he just reminds me that his money is still on Gale and asks what I need. I tell him. The cost is astronomical and after helping Prim, he can’t provide all of the funds for it but he agrees to help. If I throw in the money from all of the other sponsors who’ve already signed up, I should have enough. That leaves me with only the second, equally important but blessedly less expensive, item. Relatively speaking, that is. We’re down to the final six so I’m still asking the equivalent of a year’s salary in the mines. I hope he isn’t injured and doesn’t need anything else after this because I very well may be throwing everything in for this one plan.


	19. Chapter 19

I arrange to have the items delivered to Gale before sundown. I need to talk to Finnick and I don’t want to risk missing the beginning of his hunt. I want him to get them early enough that he factors them into his plan and I know I will not rest as long as he is on the move. I get to see the first smile from him since he teased me before going into the arena when he receives the parachute holding his gifts. 

The gloves are designed to be waterproof and hold heat in the fingers while still able to breathe and thin enough that he doesn’t lose sensation. They are exactly the kind of gloves that I would want on a cold night out in the woods with my bow. He tries them on with a grin, flexes his fingers to show me they fit, and then takes them off again until it’s time. He recognizes the glasses from my Games and doesn’t try those on in the light but he stacks them with his supplies so that I know he knows what they are. The smile he directs at the cameras is predatory and then he leans back against his tree to rest.

I find Finnick waiting for me on the roof. He’s playing with his rope again but this time he’s watching for me. He waves me over and I sit close enough to him that we can keep our voices down in case they’ve put more cameras on the roof. I don’t know where to begin but that’s all right because he says, “You know Caesar is President Snow’s mouthpiece, right? I mean, he has his own opinions and his favorites and all and most of what he says is his own but when it comes down to it, some of what he says is scripted.”

“I know,” I say. “So you heard it, too?”

He nods. “I may not have understood all of it but I did pick up some things. I know you were negotiating with him and I was part of the deal.”

“Is that a problem?” I ask, feeling suddenly defensive.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what the deal was. If you were agreeing to play by his rules just to keep me safe, though, I don’t want it.”

“It’s not just about you,” I tell him. “It’s bigger than all of us.” I think of how he trusted me with his treasonous thoughts and decide to take a chance. I tell him about President Snow’s visit before my victory tour, about the attitudes in the other districts, about Prim and Gale being drawn as punishment for the berries, and about how Snow can read me almost as well as Gale can. “He knows I’m not indifferent to you,” I finish. 

“I already knew most of that,” he tells me. “There has been talk among the other victors. I’ve got a pretty good idea already of which ones are unsettled and I figured Snow wasn’t happy. I also suspected that he’d gotten them both in there on purpose. So you think he’s making you an offer. You don’t do anything else that could be considered rebellious and he’ll let you keep what’s left. He’ll even give you a safety net against becoming a…reward and, as a bonus, he’ll throw me into the deal, too, because he thinks he’s making you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“That about sums it up,” I say. 

He says, “I think you should take it, at least for now. I’ve been thinking about what you said and you’re right. Right now, there isn’t anything we can really do. If the pot boils over now, with nothing to back it up, a lot of people will die and we’ll be worse off than where we started. The kind of anger that’s out there isn’t going to just go away now that it’s in the open but there’s a time to be angry and a time to act on it and that time hasn’t come yet. In the meantime, it lets you protect the people you care about and keeps you out of people like Octavius’ beds.”

“It keeps you out, too,” I point out. “I mean, if…”

He looks at me and grins and this time it’s a real smile. He says, “I can think of a lot worse people to be in love with, girl on fire.”

“So, what, we just start kissing a lot or something?” I ask him. I don’t know how this love stuff works. With Peeta, it involved a lot of kissing.

He kind of snorts and shakes his head. “There’s a lot more to love than kissing. You and Peeta? That was all splash and no substance. It was fine for getting sponsors but it certainly didn’t convince President Snow and it didn’t convince the Districts, either. For this to work, he’ll want us to convince everybody.”

“How do we do that?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I guess you could always fall in love with me for real.”

I still don’t know what I feel for him but it’s definitely closer to love than what I had with Peeta or what I feel for Gale. I let myself indulge the idea for a moment but then I think of Prim and my smile falters. “I’m never having kids,” I say.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I don’t want them here, either. That doesn’t mean you’re doomed to a lifetime alone. I’m not saying you have to love me but I am saying you don’t have to give up on the idea of love altogether.”

I shift uncomfortably and say, “Yeah, but love comes with…expectations…and I’d rather pass on that.”

He looks at me closely and says, “You mean like Octavius?” I nod and he says gently, “Oh, honey. That’s not what it’s really like. The things you do with them and the things you do with someone you care about are entirely different. It’s nothing like that with someone who actually cares about you. You don’t need to be afraid of it.”

I think I should be uncomfortable talking about this with him of all people but, strangely enough, I’m not. I think maybe because he’s so matter-of-fact about it or maybe because I know that he’s had to do it, too. So I say doubtfully, “I don’t know. Everyone says it’s supposed to be wonderful but I cared about Peeta. I didn’t love him but I cared about him and it still didn’t seem like anything special. And Gale kissed me once and that was just weird.”

“It’s a different kind of caring,” he says. 

“And how do I know if I care about you that way?” I ask. “That should matter, right, if we’re going to take this deal?”

“That’s easy,” he says with a smile. He lifts his hand to my face and tucks my hair behind my ear but doesn’t remove it. He leans in, slowly enough to let me move away if I want to but I’m curious and so I let him come to me. From the start, it’s different from Peeta or Gale or Octavius. His lips against mine are so light, I can barely feel them. His warm breath whispers across them and my eyes drift closed as I lean into him. I want more. I think there should be more. He obliges me and his thumb strokes my cheek as his lips settle against mine. They’re warm and soft and when I feel him smile, I feel the first stirring of something inside of me. 

My hands come to rest on his shoulders and I feel the heat and the firmness of his muscles beneath them. He moves his lips and, like when we were dancing, I follow his lead. My heart begins to beat faster and my hands tighten on his shoulder. He makes an encouraging sound and slides his hand into my hair and changes the angle of my head so that our lips are fitted fully against each other. I feel his part and then his tongue flicks lightly over mine. Hesitantly, I let him in and he strokes it slowly over my lips before sliding it into my mouth. 

The idea of having someone else’s tongue on mine has always seemed unpleasant to me and I’ve never seen the appeal to it until it’s Finnick’s. Now, it feels far better than I’ve ever imagined and it’s making my breath come in shallow gasps. The stirring in my chest turns to warmth and then actual heat and then I’m rising onto my knees and pushing myself against him. He chuckles softly and then groans as I begin to rub his tongue like he’s doing mine. The sound he makes sends the heat out of my chest and lower into my belly. It begins to feel kind of like being hungry if hunger was actually enjoyable. I wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me into his lap. His free arm wraps around me and presses me against his chest as our tongues dance together. 

I’m disappointed when he pulls back but maybe it’s a good thing since we’re both breathless. I say, “Kissing Peeta was never like that.”

He laughs warmly and kisses me again, quickly this time, and says, “I hope not.” I give him a confused look when he stands up and sets me on my feet and he says, “Let’s get you downstairs before this goes a lot further than you’re ready for just yet. Besides, we need to check on Gale. It’ll be dark soon.”

Gale. He’s right. I do need to check on Gale. He’ll probably wait until after the anthem plays. I don’t think there have been any more deaths today but that’s okay. After last night and with Gale’s preparations today, the audience is still invested. They’ll get a show tonight. Many of them will stay up to watch it and the rest will catch it on the morning recaps. Finnick accompanies me back down to my quarters where my team is already waiting. I hear the anthem begin to play and Finnick and I take a seat next to each other on the couch to watch.


	20. Chapter 20

Gale waits for full dark and then slips on the gloves and the glasses and gathers his things. He shimmies down the tree and goes on the prowl. I can tell he’s been scouting because he immediately starts off in the direction of one of the tributes’ camps. It isn’t the careers but I’m not terribly surprised. He, too, has likely thought of the possibility—however remote—of the rest of the tributes teaming up to go after him and he won’t let that happen. Additionally, he’s going to want to make sure his plan works with smaller game before going after the bigger prey. I wonder if the other tributes realize that their lives have shortened along with Prim’s.

When Haymitch told me he was coaching Gale to think like a career if he lost Prim, I wasn’t sure what I would think about watching him deliberately go after the others, knowing he was planning on killing them. I killed in the arena, of course, but mine were all in self-defense. Cato was the only one I intentionally stalked and, in the end, his death was mercy rather than malice. However, now that it is happening, I feel only a grim satisfaction. 

The first death comes quickly. He hesitates only a moment before sending his arrow flying into the boy from Nine. Around the arena, the tributes stir at the sound of the cannon. A few sit up and look around warily and the careers change up their guard but they must all assume that someone else has succumbed to the cold because they lie back down and return to sleep. The boy from Nine has done nothing to Gale and I can see regret flash over his face before it hardens again. He at least made sure it would be quick. He never even woke up. As deaths go, it was a merciful one. I don’t imagine that he plans much mercy for the careers.

All that is left now are the boys from One, Two, and Eleven and the girl from Eight. The Games will be over soon now. He searches for the rest but the girl from Eight is hidden in her log and the boy from Eleven has found a cave. He finds the careers but they have taken shelter inside the Cornucopia and getting to them will require crossing the open plain of the glacier. He is going to have to draw them to him. That will be guaranteed once the other two are dead so he returns to his search for them. 

By the time the moon is beginning to wane, he’s located the cave but not the girl. The boy from Eleven is almost as big as Thresh, certainly bigger than Gale, so he will have to flush him out as well. That, at least, will be easy. We flush rabbits and foxes from their dens all the time. He still has the flint and steel I got him and he goes into the trees to collect pine needles which he lays out on a rock to dry. It is not quite dawn when he finds a flue in the cave and begins to stuff it with the needles. He doesn’t need actual fire, just smoke, so he adds some green branches to it as well. When he’s satisfied that it’s being drawn into the cave, he climbs a tree near the mouth and waits. 

I’m beginning to think that the tribute from Eleven has succumbed to smoke inhalation and am listening for the cannon when he bursts through the mouth of the cave. Gale’s arrow hits his shoulder before he’s even upright and he glowers up at the trees as he pulls it out and throws it onto the ground. Gale’s next arrow goes into his thigh and he does the same with it. When Gale hits his chest, the arrow deflects and I’m reminded of Cato and his body armor. Gale is clearly thinking the same thing because he begins to aim for the tribute’s head. 

Haymitch is shaking his head and looking at the screen in confusion. He says, “Eleven’s sponsors aren’t that good. How did Chaff get something that expensive for him?”

Cato’s armor covered his limbs as well as his trunk. Eleven’s doesn’t. I look closer and notice that the fit of his jacket is wrong. It sticks out at odd angles and is flatter than it should be over his chest. “It’s rock,” I say, thinking of Prim’s makeshift plate. In some areas, the rock sticks up in thin, shale-like sheets, and can be broken off. It’s hard but it’s brittle. A hard enough blow to the chest would shatter it but it is sufficient against Gale’s arrows. “Smart,” I have to admit.

“Gale isn’t a close up fighter,” Finnick says. “He’s going to have to get in a direct hit to the face and fast.”

He’s right. Eleven has found him and is rushing his tree. He dodges Gale’s arrow and slams into the pine with his shoulder. The tree shakes and Gale’s legs lock tighter around the branch holding him. He aims his next arrow but the angle is wrong and Gale’s quiver is growing light. He can’t risk wasting any more. Eleven seems to realize this because he backs up, keeping the branches between him and Gale, and rushes the tree again. Large clumps of snow fall heavily to the ground with wet thumps and Gale skids sideways. He manages to right himself but he is treed and it’s only a matter of time before he’s down unless he can outlast Eleven’s energy.

Finnick puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him and I know that he doesn’t have much hope. Gale’s position is precarious and when Eleven slams into the tree again, Gale slips and goes down hard. He curls into a ball and is rolling as he lands. He barely misses the kick from Eleven’s boot and lashes out with his foot as his hands reach for his knife. He grabs it and rolls out of the way of Eleven’s heavy fist and sinks the knife into the back of Eleven’s thigh. I think he’s trying to hamstring him but it doesn’t work. Eleven just keeps coming and now the sun is coming up and the night vision glasses are more hindrance than help. He throws them off of his face and leaps to his feet.

I am on the edge of the couch now and I can see Haymitch leaning forward as well. Effie is biting her finger and Portia is muttering, “Come on, Gale. Fight. Take him down.” Her eyes meet mine and I see genuine concern there and am reminded how sad she was when she learned that Peeta had died. I think I like Portia almost as much as Cinna. Finnick takes up her chant and then we’re all urging him on.

Eleven gets Gale by the throat and slams him down onto the ground. I can hear the crack of his skull against a rock buried in the ice and am expecting the sound of a cannon but Gale’s feet come up and he kicks hard against Eleven’s chest. He looks confused for a moment as Eleven stumbles back but then his eyes widen as he figures out the armor. His grin turns feral as he gets to his feet. Eleven charges and Gale dips out of the way and grabs him, using Eleven’s momentum to take him down. 

He straddles Eleven and begins punching him hard in the face again and again and I think he plans to just beat him to death but Eleven gets his foot up under him and rolls, pinning Gale to the ground with a knee to his chest and a meaty hand around his throat. Gale reaches out blindly into the snow and his hand closes around something. As he brings it up, I see that it’s one of the arrows that fell onto the ground. His lips draw back into a snarl and he buries the arrow in Eleven’s neck and gives a hard jerk. Bright red blood sprays his face and he shoves Eleven off of him as the cannon booms. 

Around the arena, the careers and Eight sit up again. Eight looks out of her log shelter and then curls herself tightly into a ball. I can see her shaking. The careers go to the mouth of the cornucopia and take a knee with their weapons drawn. They speak intently for a moment and then the boy from One goes out and makes a circuit around the horn. They know they’re being hunted now. The question is whether they feel safe in their shelter or not.

Gale isn’t going to take the chance that they aren’t. He digs around in the snow for his arrows and his glasses and, when he finds them, he packs them away and begins to move. His hand goes to the back of his head and his fingers come away glittering red with blood in the misty dawn light. He reaches down and scoops up a handful of snow but then thinks better of it and tosses it aside. He knows that it’s safe to touch but has no way to be certain that it won’t kill him if pressed into an open wound. I’m not certain of that, either. He finds an ice floe and begins to chip away at it. Part of it goes into his water skin and into his jacket to warm. The rest gets wrapped in a strip of cloth from his blanket and he puts it against his head. 

He walks until he’s satisfied that he’s far enough from the dead tribute and then carefully climbs up into a tree. He belts himself in and then pulls out the first aid kit. His hands brush carefully over the top of it and he gives a sad smile before opening it and finding what he needs. A few minutes later, his head is bandaged and he’s wrapped in a blanket, fighting sleep. He doesn’t know if he has a concussion or not and I know he’s trying to stay awake. Exhaustion overtakes him, though, and his eyes drift closed. I hope I won’t hear a cannon because there’s nothing I can do for him.

Dawn is breaking in the Capitol as well and Finnick leads me to the bedroom to get a few hours of sleep before we have to start again. It’s going to be a big day. With only four tributes left in the arena, it’s very possible that the Games could be over and one of them could be home by tonight. The Capitol citizens will be in a frenzy. The betting will be fierce. I may even be able to pull off enough sponsors to get Gale something for his head. The entire day will be a non-stop party and I’m going to need my rest. I check on Gale one last time and then curl up against Finnick and fall asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

I am in the meadow back home, leaning up against the trunk of a willow tree and watching a pair of mockingjays flit about. They are singing Rue’s song and I smile softly, knowing that it’s Prim and Rue. They are together and they are happy and everything is at peace. I want to stay here forever with the warm sun shining down through the drooping boughs which shelter me, with my sister and Rue, with the pure happiness I know I will never again feel during my waking hours. 

My peace is shattered when the mockingjays begin to scream and I bolt upright in bed to find Finnick sitting ramrod straight, screaming, and lashing out with his fists. I dodge the blows and wrap my arms around him. “Finnick! Wake up!” I say. “It’s just a dream! It’s not real! It’s just a dream! You’re safe!” 

He looks at me blankly and then blinks rapidly. He stretches his face and yawns as he looks around my room in obvious confusion. He turns back to me. “Katniss?” he asks.

“It’s me,” I say. “You’re okay. You just had a bad dream.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you. What time is it?”

I glance at the clock and say, “We’ve still got an hour or two. Come on. Lie back down. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again but he lays his head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and he buries his nose in the side of my neck. 

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I get them, too. I’m surprised I haven’t already woken you up screaming. Happens all the time.”

“You sleep like the dead,” he says, tucking his fist up on my chest.

“Only when you’re here,” I say. “Just wait. It’ll happen soon enough. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he says and I understand. I kiss his forehead and begin to hum a lullaby my father used to sing to us. He settles deeper into my arms and my lids begin to droop as I settle back into my temporary sense of security. In a way, this is like the cave with Peeta. I feel safe here with this mutual sharing of comfort and the knowledge that we have someone to lean on. Unlike Peeta, though, I’m intensely aware of the heat of Finnick’s body, the weight of him, the way his breath stirs the hairs on the side of my neck, and there’s something tender and almost painful in my chest that makes me wish that I didn’t ever have to let him go.

When we wake again, Effie is at the door. She says, “Only three to go, Katniss. I have a feeling that today might just be the day.”

“Me, too, Effie,” I tell her as Finnick and I climb wearily out of bed. Our few hours of sleep haven’t been enough but they’ll have to be because we have just enough time to eat and dress. I wish I could just eat here in my room but Finnick points out that we need to get a read on the mood of the other mentors and breakfast is the time to do it. When we come out of the room, I see Haymitch and Chaff passed out on the sofa and chair in the living area. Finnick presses his fingers to his lips and sneaks into the elevator. Our teams know that he spends virtually every night in my room but we don’t need anyone else to know that. He’s trying to protect me in case Snow’s offer falls through.

The female mentor from Eleven is subdued at breakfast and the mentors from Nine glare at me when I come in. The career mentors leer at me and the female from Two says viciously, “They’re going to get your friend today just like they did your sister.”

I throw myself at her but Finnick is expecting this and he grabs me by the arm and doesn’t let go. I hiss at him but his hand remains firm. “Save it,” he tells me sharply, glaring at Two. “They’re just mad because they know Gale’s going to kill their tributes.” I snarl at the woman from Two and allow him to drag me to the table. 

Now that’s it’s pretty much down to the careers against Gale, the room is divided. The mentors from Eight and Nine sit with One and Two. Gale has or will likely kill their tributes. The rest sit on my side, even Eleven. Their tributes are gone but that doesn’t mean they’re no longer invested. We’ve all at least met the other districts’ tributes and they’re real to us in a way that they aren’t to most others here in the Capitol. We care about who wins even when it isn’t us. I suppose that means that I hope it’s Eight if it isn’t Gale because if one of the careers win, especially Two, I’m going to be tempted to kill him myself just for being part of the pack that took down Prim.

Gale has survived the night and is still asleep in his tree. Eight is sitting with her back to her log, nibbling on what must be her last remaining food. She hasn’t distinguished herself with anything but her survival and I wouldn’t have even noticed her if she hadn’t made it this long. It seems like there’s always one that manages to stay hidden. I wish it had been Prim. This girl, though, won’t be long for this world unless something happens to the others and quickly. She’s emaciated and looks almost ghoulish with her skin stretched so tightly over her bones. It will be easy for Gale to take her out and I hope he does it quickly. She reminds me of a wounded rabbit. She isn’t going to be fair game in any sense except that it is the Hunger Games and all but one tribute must die.

Around me, everyone is speculating about how Gale will take down the careers and whether he can actually do it. Most of them seem hopeful. A few seem doubtful. I am uncertain myself. Gale’s strong and smart and tough but the careers know he’s hunting at night now and they’ll be prepared. There are two of them so they’re better rested and they’re both at least as big and strong as Gale and they’ve been trained to fight. Two on one, Gale doesn’t stand a chance. He’s going to have to separate them and they know it. They won’t let that happen. 

I am quiet through breakfast and while Cinna and the prep team get me ready. My prep team is beside themselves with excitement over the prospect of Gale winning and the titter about with more enthusiasm than normal. Every once in a while, one of them will mention Prim and they’ll get quiet for a moment but when Venia hisses at Flavius, I realize that, in their own way, they’re trying to make me feel better by keeping my focus on Gale rather than Prim and showing me that they’re pulling for him. 

Haymitch and I ride together with our team to the mansion where today’s party will be held. It will likely go all day and I’m dreading it already. I want to be in our quarters with just us and Finnick and maybe Annie, watching whatever is to come. I don’t want to be surrounded by strangers today. I’m too tired and too on edge and I don’t want them to see me lose it if Gale goes down. They’ve gotten all of the grief from me that I can give them.

For some reason, I think about my mother. Maybe it’s because the Games are coming to a close and I know I’ll be going home soon. I’ve managed to keep my thoughts away from her until now because, honestly, I can’t afford to worry about her, too. I can still help Gale. Prim is beyond her need of it now. There is nothing I can do for my mother. I wonder if she’s gone back into that dark depression or if the knowledge that I am coming home is sustaining her. I wonder if she is able to care that Gale is still in the game and if she and Hazelle are watching together or if she’s simply staring blankly at the wall, lost in the knowledge that I will be coming home without Prim. The thought of walking through our door alone hits me like a kick to the chest and I double over from the pain.

It's Haymitch whose arms come around me now and I clutch tightly to his shirt. “I can’t,” I gasp. “I can’t do it. I can’t go home without her.”

“Shh,” he says. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, sweetheart. Just get through today. Focus on Gale. You can’t think about Prim or home or anything else or it’ll make you crazy. It’s just like being in the arena. You have to survive until it’s over.”

“I can’t _breathe_ ,” I say. “I can’t breathe. She’s gone, Haymitch. She’s dead!”

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing my arms. “I know.”

“Oh, Katniss,” Effie says sadly and runs her fingers over my hair. “You must be strong now. For your mother. She’s going to be watching for you, you know. You must show her that you’re still standing and that she has something left to hold onto.”

She’s right. I nod against Haymitch and pull back. Cinna leans forward and blots my tears from my face and fixes my makeup and hair. Some of the parties are televised and I’m sure that this one will be. My mother doesn’t care about the parties but she will be looking for any sign of me. She’s going to need to see that I am all right. If she sees that I am broken, she will break, too. This is something I can do for her. I can be strong. 

I am surrounded by a throng of people when we enter the mansion. Everyone wants to talk to me and today they expect me to be cheerful and hopeful. Prim’s death is a distant memory to them already. They care only about today. I still have a duty to Gale and I make it my mission to pull enough sponsors to get something for his head. He needs to be in top shape to face the careers tonight and he needs me to help him do it.

I laugh and flirt and coyly defer propositions to Effie, who’s under strict instruction from Haymitch to be sadly unable to find any room in my schedule. If I must to save Gale, I will repeat the performance with Octavius but I will avoid it unless it is absolutely necessary. Beyond simply not wishing to have to prostitute myself out for sponsors, I know that I cannot risk setting a precedent. Everyone understands with Prim but if I do it this year for Gale, I will be expected to do it for all of my tributes from now on and I don’t know if I am that dedicated. Of course, like Finnick said, if I can exchange an hour or so of something that is ultimately merely unpleasant for the lives of my tributes, I will probably do it anyway. What is my comfort against their lives?

Fortunately, I am spared from that today. The betting is divided between One, Two, and Twelve and the money exchanging hands is staggering. People are betting more than what I bring home in my tribute winnings in a year and I make more in a day than the miners do in a month. The payouts for the winner will be astronomical. The losses for the losers will be even more so. With all of the money flowing around, sponsors are feeling generous. The cost of everything is insane but with a little luck, I can get enough of them for one last gift. 

The mentors from Eight are begging for someone to send food to the girl. I think about her starving in the arena and look around at all of the tables that are struggling under the burden of the platters and dishes with which they are laden. The scraps from this banquet would seem like a feast to all of the tributes. A fresh wave of loathing washes over me and it is still in my eyes when I hear a somewhat familiar voice behind me say, “Hello, Miss Everdeen.” I turn to find the new head gamemaker standing behind me and try to tamp down on my fury. He doesn’t seem perturbed, though. Instead, he looks around the room as if he truly sees it and says, “How disgusting we must seem to you.”

“Did you do it?” I ask suddenly. I wasn’t planning the question. I wasn’t even thinking about it. I don’t know where it came from but it’s there, hanging between us beside the music.

“No,” he says. “They triggered a pod that was already in place. We had something else planned to draw the tributes closer together similar to the fire from last year. We were all actually hoping they would find her. If the people believed that we had contrived Prim’s death, there would likely be riots in the streets. They don’t like it when we’re the ones who kill the younger kids, especially the ones they favor and everyone liked your sister. She wouldn’t have made it, of course, but we didn’t have to do anything to ensure that.”

I don’t know that he’s telling the truth but I do know that I can never tell Gale. He will never forgive himself if he thinks that his decisions triggered the event that led to her death. I nod curtly and start to walk away. He calls out, “Katniss.” I turn. “See you at the post-game interview.” 

I nod again and find a bathroom where I can lean up against the counter without being watched. Maybe it’s a trick but I don’t think it is. Snow is going to let Gale live. Gale’s chances of getting out are now based entirely upon his own abilities. There will be no targeted attacks from the gamemakers to ensure that he doesn’t win. If he survives the careers, he will be allowed to come home and live as a hostage to my good behavior. I have done it. I have kept what remains of my family safe. For now, at least. I know it won’t last because I have no intention of going home and fading into the woodwork. I will avenge my sister and, whether the gamemakers deliberately set that avalanche on her or not, the Capitol is entirely responsible for her death. It wasn’t the tributes who killed her. It was Snow. That is something I will not let myself forget and something I will never forgive. Vengeance will be my purpose and what allows me to survive losing her and I won’t lose sight of that no matter how many people Snow threatens.


	22. Chapter 22

Eight succumbs to starvation. We hear the cannon and turn as one, our eyes searching the screen, expecting to see a fight has taken place while we were all distracted. Instead, we see the hovercraft move in and pick her up, log and all, and remove her body from the arena. The careers believe that Gale has struck again and they go on the alert. Gale believes that the careers have gotten her and shrugs negligently but he probes at the back of his head and scans the woods for threats in case they are close. I see him wince when his fingers touch it and get back to work finding sponsors. 

I am not the only one who has been working. Cinna and Portia introduce us to a friend of theirs. Effie directs a newlywed couple to me. I even hear the preps bubbling to people about how brave and strong he is and how terrible it was when Prim died in his arms and how exciting it was to see him take down Eleven. Finnick sends some of his normal sponsors my way and I’m shocked when Johanna flounces over with a heavyset man whose eyes are locked hungrily on her. She ignores the look but introduces him to me as Tertius and says brightly, “Just this once, remember? I fully expect to see you again next year. I will be very upset with you if you choose her over me.”

Tertius laughs and his belly rolls with it. He says in a deep baritone, “No worries there, Johanna. I know just how deadly you are with that axe.”

She winks and says, “And don’t you forget it.” Tertius’ attention shifts to me and I see Johanna back away mouthing, We’re even now and realize that I am not the only one who feels the weight of debts that demand to be repaid. 

Tertius says to me, “Johanna tells me smart money’s on your Gale.”

“It always has been,” I tell him with what I hope is a winning smile. 

“You have to say that,” he teases. “You’re his mentor.”

I shake my head and decide to try something new. The Capitol people watch the Games and visit the arenas and participate in recreations but they have no idea what it’s really like in there and no one talks about it. I don’t know what tactic Johanna uses on this man and I certainly don’t want to flirt with him but if I can make him feel like I’m letting him in on something no one else knows, I think I can lock him down.

I drop my voice to a confidential tone as if I’m letting him in on a secret and say, “It isn’t just that. It’s…when you’re in the arena, you learn to gauge your competitors. It isn’t just training scores or interviews. It’s watching them in the gym and reading their personalities and mentalities, their strengths and weaknesses. You rank them by how dangerous they are, how much of a threat they pose to you and your chances of getting home. Once you learn to do something like that, it stays with you. I’ve known all along that Gale was the real threat in there. The others just learned it too late and now there aren’t enough of them left to take him down.”

“And what makes him so dangerous?” Tertius asks.

I decide to spin a story like I did for Peeta about Gale’s goat. I can’t tell the real truth but I can get close. “It’s no contest. Back in our district, we’re surrounded by forest a lot like the one in the arena this year. The woods are full of predators and all we have to protect us from them is an electric fence. One day, Gale and I were sitting in the meadow eating lunch and the electricity went down. Bears are drawn to the scent of human food and ours aren’t afraid of people. One came through the fence right at us. We didn’t see him until he was right up on us. Our little sisters were with us and we knew we had to protect them but a bear can outrun a person. So I put the girls behind me and Gale grabbed a sharp stick. The bear charged him and Gale stood there still as a statue between it and us until it got close and then he leapt inside of the range of its paws and stabbed it in the eye. Gale against just two tributes? It’s no contest.” 

The real truth is that he shot the bear with an arrow from a tree but that’s not something I can tell. Fortunately, Tertius seems sufficiently impressed because he’s nodding and he claps me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stagger a little in my heels. He says, “Well, then, I guess he is the one to bet on. He’s going to need that head fixed first, though.”  
   
Gale and the careers are the only ones left. He knows that they will eventually decide that two against one is good odds and come for him. He’s ready. I am able to pool all of the sponsors and just afford the medicine for his wound. It’s similar to the stuff I got from the feast at the cornucopia for Peeta and I can tell that he feels better within minutes. He leaves the bloody bandage on his head, though, and stays in his tree. Only now he deliberately kicks the snow away, leaving the green boughs exposed to announce his location. For good measure, he climbs down and starts a fire to cook the white rabbit he’d snared this morning. He waits but they don’t come and so he takes his meal back up to the tree with him and leaves the fire going. 

The careers’ mentors have pooled together and sent night vision glasses to their own tributes. This will be a fight in the dark and that’s all right. Even with the glasses, the darkness will help to conceal the traps he’s laid around his lair and there are plenty of them. He has been busy the past few days and I know that this has been his long-term plan all along. He will draw the tributes in to what they will think is easy prey and then the trap will spring. 

The party is still raging when the careers begin to move. Finnick finds me and we are joined by my team at the screen the host has set up for us. The other guests press in close behind me but they allow us and the other mentors to take front and center. I can feel cameras trained on us, waiting to capture our reactions. I wish we were back at the Training Center. The crowd makes me feel like I can’t breathe and I have the irrational fear that someone is going to slip a knife between my ribs. When Finnick moves behind me and wraps his arms around me, I lean back into him gratefully. I don’t remember the last time that someone else put himself between me and a perceived threat. That’s my job.

The careers are wary. They have finally figured out what I have known all along about Gale being the most dangerous thing inside of the arena. Their combined strength gives them confidence, though, and I hope that it will prove to be false. Beside me, Haymitch takes a deep swig from his flask and Effie on the other side is biting her finger again. Cinna and Portia are holding hands. Finnick’s fingers slip into mine and he says quietly into my ear, “It’s going to be okay. He’s got this.”

The careers stop well back from Gale’s tree, safely out of the range of his arrows but he hasn’t drawn his bow yet. He groans and rolls his head to the side against the tree trunk. The gauze around his head is bright in the moonlight and makes the injury look far worse than it actually is. The careers see him and laugh. “Look at him! He’s half dead already!”

“Idiots,” the male mentor from District One mutters. “Please tell me they aren’t actually going to fall for that.”

“They’re faking it, right?” the female from One asks, looking up at him. 

“Nope,” Finnick whispers happily. “One and Two aren’t really known for their brains.”

The careers swagger closer. Two swings his mace while One taps his hand with his sword and grins up at Gale. “Hey! Fire boy! We’re coming for you!” he taunts. 

Gale groans again and lifts his head heavily, blinking down at them. His eyes widen and he makes a show of searching for his bow. When he draws it, he’s shaking and I look up at Haymitch in confusion. He’s playing the part a little bit too well. What if I was wrong after all? What if Snow never intended for him to live? What if the medicine that was sent wasn’t medicine at all? What if it was poison or a strong opiate like morphling that’s going to impair his judgment and throw off his aim? Haymitch shrugs and turns back to the screen. 

Gale is blinking rapidly like he’s trying to clear his vision as he holds his shaky aim on the other tributes who are moving steadily closer. “You killed Prim,” he says in a thick, unsteady voice. 

“Yeah,” One says as Two says, “We killed that little girl and your little girlfriend and now we’re going to kill you, fire boy.” 

Gale whispers something and the careers look at each other and back at him. One calls up, “What was that? We can’t hear you. You’re dying too fast.”

Gale whispers again, a bit louder this time, and I can almost make it out. The careers shrug and move closer. Gale’s eyes flicker down to their feet and the bow wavers more sharply. The careers laugh and One takes the step necessary to place him squarely in Gale’s snare. A snap is the only warning given before the rope cinches around his ankle and yanks him off of the ground. As he’s rising, something else is falling from the tree. It’s the piece of shale that had covered Eleven’s torso like body armor only Gale has somehow affixed row upon row of long, wicked-looking sharpened wooden spear points to it. The District One tribute comes to a stop as the shale reaches the end of its swing. Blood splatters the snow below as the spikes slam into his body, spearing him from waist to neck.

Two freezes in place, staring at his companion as the cannon booms. Gale’s aim steadies out and he calls out, “I said, ‘You can try!’” The arrow flies and lodges itself in Two’s shoulder. It’s a deliberate placement. He doesn’t mean to kill him quickly. He sends another arrow into the opposite shoulder before Two can react. It looks like the Games are going to end with Gale peppering Two with arrows while the tribute tries to figure out where it’s safe to step so that he can run until we hear a crash and see a boulder come flying down and slam into the base of Gale’s tree.

He falls and rolls to a knee on the ground with his bow drawn. The tribute from Two clearly believes that the odds have turned in his favor because he rips out the arrows and charges without regard for any further traps. Gale gets off another arrow but Two rolls his bleeding shoulder back and it only grazes him. Then he’s too close for Gale to draw and aim again and Gale is forced to use the silver bow to block the swing of the mace. 

He moves quickly, blocking what is now a rain of blows from the sinister-looking weapon. He can’t go on the offensive because he’s too busy trying to keep the spiked head of the mace from burying itself in his skull. Two is bigger and bulkier than he is and he slams the mace down again and again, his face twisted with rage, as he screams at Gale to just die already. Finally, one of the spikes on the mace catches on the arm of the bow. It’s only for a second but it’s enough for Gale to push up off of his bent knee and throw his weight up at the other tribute, knocking him off balance. 

They fall into the snow and roll. Gale has the bow locked against Two’s throat with one hand and is trying to pin his arm with the other hand. It doesn’t work and he’s forced to use the bow to block again as the mace comes down. Two punches him in the jaw with his free fist and Gale snarls and bucks him to the side, rolling Two onto his back again. He manages to knock the mace from Two’s hand but Two grabs his bow and throws it into the snow and then they are fighting with their fists. 

Two’s greater size is an advantage here and when his massive hand locks around Gale’s throat and squeezes, I turn to Finnick. I can’t watch Gale die, too. Finnick’s hand cups the back of my head and presses my face against his chest. A moment later, though, he’s tugging my hands down and pointing to the screen. Gale has dislodged Two and they’re rolling together to a flat spot near the rocks and I realize what Gale is trying to do. 

He lets Two get on top of him and draws his feet up. I can see that the push he gives takes every bit of his strength but he manages to toss Two the necessary distance. The tribute lands heavily and the mat of woven pine branches and boughs collapses under his weight. He grabs out for anything to hold him up and his hand closes around Gale’s ankle. Gale scrambles for purchase in the snow but he’s being dragged. He kicks sharply at Two, trying to free himself, but Two’s hand is fisted in his pants leg and he’s jerked into the pit with him.

Two lands first. He’s face up and we can see the blood spurt from his mouth when the stakes Gale had driven into the sinkhole pierce through his body. His breath gurgles audibly and he screams wetly when his lungs attempt to expel the wooden spike that has been driven through them. Gale lands on top of him and one of the spikes goes through his side, another drives into his calf, and a third pierces his hand. He gives out a cry of pain that makes my heart clench and Finnick’s arms tighten around me to hold me up. 

Gale screams as he pulls his hand off of the stake and again as he does the same for his leg. The one in his side goes deeper and his face contorts in agony as he tries to get his feet under him so that his weight is not centered on the single spike that’s currently holding him up. He has made the stakes too long and his legs don’t reach the ground. He roars in pain as he tries to use his hands around the wooden pole to hold his weight as he draws his feet up and plants them on the still-gasping body of Two. He uses the tribute’s torso as a platform and tears pour down his face as he pulls himself up off of the spike that has him impaled. 

His weight pushes Two deeper and Gale leans heavily against one of the poles and looks down at the dying tribute. His chest heaves with the effort to breathe and blood is rushing from the gaping hole in his side. He clamps his wounded hand over it and spits in Two’s face before steadying himself and giving a vicious kick with his injured leg that snaps Two’s head back and shatters his jaw. “That was…for Dahlia,” he gasps. He raises his foot and drives it down onto Two’s chest, shoving it deeper onto the pole ripping the boy’s lungs apart. “That is for…Prim.” He shouts something else up at the sky and I think it’s, Now, let’s go! but it’s drowned out by the sound of the cannon and he looks up as the trumpets sound and Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms out, “Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games…Gale Hawthorne from District Twelve!”

“He won,” I say dazedly. “He won!” I turn to Finnick and throw my arms around his neck, squealing like a little girl as I’m surrounded by people congratulating me and shouting Gale’s name. I look back at the screen as the hovercraft appears. It drops the ladder down into the pit and Gale reaches for it. The current seizes him and he is being lifted up into the air with the same look of stunned disbelief I remember feeling last year. 

Finnick spins me around in a circle, shouting, “He did it!” He kisses me soundly and we’re both laughing and I’m crying and my hands are in his hair and all I can see are his eyes and the grin that’s splitting his face. “Congratulations, girl on fire,” he says. “You just mentored a victor.”

Before I can respond, Haymitch has grabbed me away from him and he’s spinning me, too. “He made it! He won! We did it! I knew he had it in him! I knew it! He’s just like you!”

He puts me down and then Cinna and Portia and Effie and the prep team are engulfing me in hugs and congratulations. Portia and Effie are crying and both my prep team and his are beside themselves with glee. I’m quickly dragged away from them and into the crowd where everyone wants their picture taken with me and my face is hurting from grinning. Between their excitement and my joy, I don’t even care that I hate them. Gale is coming home!

Effie extricates me with the announcement that we have to go meet the new victor and it’s all I can do not to run for the doors. Finnick and Annie pile into the car with the rest of my team and his arms go around me again. Beside him, Annie gives me a soft smile and says, “Congratulations, Katniss.”

My good mood lasts through our arrival at the Training Center where Finnick and Annie are forced to stay behind and through the elevator ride down past the tribute training areas and cafeteria to the hospital. I am beaming as the gurney wheels forward and I see Gale’s head lift. His eyes catch mine and now I do run. I take his good hand in mine and say his name. He gives me a weak smile and says, “Hey, Catnip. Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I knew you could do it,” I tell him.

His face falls and a tear rolls from his eye. He says quietly, “I’m so sorry, Katniss. I’m so sorry about Prim. I tried to protect her. I tried to keep her safe.”

And just like that, all of the joy is sucked out again, leaving that great, gaping hole that makes me fight to draw breath. I know he needs me now more than I need to grieve, though, so I force the air past it and brush his hair back from his forehead and say, “I know, Gale. I know you did. You did everything you could. It’s okay. Gale, listen to me. I couldn’t have done it any better. You made her happy in there and that means everything. We both know she wouldn’t have made it out no matter what. She wasn’t scared, though, and that’s because of you.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

I don’t want to let him go with the doctors. I don’t trust them after Peeta. But I remember the thought that drove me to pull out those berries. They have to have a victor. They can’t lose him, especially not given the popularity of this year’s Games. He is set to become a new Capitol favorite and I try not to think of the implications of that and to focus on the fact that it will help to keep him alive. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so terrified, but I am. 

I trudge back into our quarters and find Finnick waiting. His face falls and he comes to me and takes my hands. “What happened?” he asks. “Is Gale all right?”

“He’s fine. Roof,” I say and we run together to the elevator and then out to the garden. I throw my arms around him with a grin. “He’s alive,” I say again. “I didn’t lose them both.”

“No, you didn’t,” he says and he draws back and cups my face in his hand. He gives me a cocky grin. “And you got me.”

“Did I?” I ask, feeling my heart begin to pound in my chest.

He turns serious. “Katniss, you’ve had me from the moment you said, ‘I volunteer as tribute.’ The question isn’t whether or not I want you. It’s whether or not you want me.”

So this is what it’s like to be in love. Just a few weeks ago, I disdained him. I don’t know if it was because I’d thought he was too pretty to have any real depth or that he was too easy to get or if I’d simply thought he’d be too easy to lose. But I don’t know how I would have made it through these Games without him. I still have a long way to go. I have to go home and face my district and my mother and the house that will always be far too empty and I have no idea how I’m going to get through that but he kept me sane so that I could keep Gale alive. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel normal. He makes me feel like I am someone to be cherished and protected. There is so much more there than meets the eye and I want all of it.

“Yes,” I tell him. 

His smile is so genuinely, truly happy that it almost breaks my heart. He had been all but certain that I would turn him down. Finnick Odair, the arrogant playboy with his string of lovers, the youngest victor to ever win the Games, the darling of the Capitol, is in love with me, a girl from the Seam who was nobody before she stood up at the reaping and volunteered to take her sister’s place. I know the truth about his supposed lovers. I know that there is every chance that both of us will be forced to play that game again. But I also know that it isn’t by his choice any more than it is mine and that I’m the only one with whom he stays the night. 

He leads me back down to my room but this time, rather than climb straight into bed, he pulls me into his arms. His lips are gentle against mine and his hands are warm on my face. My arms slide up around his neck and then his tongue is in my mouth and all of the emotion of the day coalesces into this one moment and morphs into a hunger like I’ve never experienced before. I can hear myself making little needy sounds in my throat and he groans in response, bringing an arm down to wrap around my waist. He presses me up against him and I can feel him already hard through his trousers and he’s right that this is nothing like with Octavius because I actually want this. I want him.

He pulls back and his seafoam eyes search mine. “Are you sure about this, Katniss?” he asks. 

“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” I tell him. 

His eyes close and he presses his lips together and I can tell he’s fighting something inside of himself and I think it might be for his control because he doesn’t look at me again until he’s steady and then he slowly lays me back on the bed. He kisses me deeply and I think that I will never get enough of kissing Finnick Odair. If he had been in the arena with me instead of Peeta, Haymitch wouldn’t have had to bribe them from me after the first one.

His mouth leaves mine and trails hot kisses over my cheek and jaw and down my throat. I tilt my head back to give him room and feel his tongue trace over my collarbone. Very slowly, he slides the strap of my emerald dress over my shoulder and follows it with his mouth. There’s no rush to his actions, none of the fumbling urgency as with Octavius. We have all night and he cares about me and he clearly intends to take his time. I take my cue from him and am slow and thorough as I explore his beautiful body with my fingertips. He is much more confident than I am and has had no shame about stripping down and revealing himself to me.

I’m nervous when he draws the bodice of my dress down to reveal my breasts but then he’s kissing me again and his hand is covering it and his thumb brushing over my nipple is sending sparks flying across my skin. I grip the back of his neck and push myself up into his hand. He smiles and I feel his thigh slide between my legs. When it presses up against me, I gasp and make another of those needy sounds. He brings his mouth down to cover my nipple and his hand glides down over my ribcage, making my belly tighten and my breath catch. He gives a careful tug and then my dress is gone, tossed aside, and his fingers are tracing the line of my underwear. 

He touches me through them at first until I’m arching my back and then the undergarment, too, is discarded. I know instantly that he is far more experienced at this than I because his fingers know exactly where to go to send fire racing through my veins. He covers my mouth with his to muffle my cries as his finger circles me, brushes over me, and slips inside. I gasp his name as he strokes me it becomes more desperate as something I don’t recognize tightens until I am as taut as the string on my bow at full draw. 

It scares me a little bit, this thing he’s created, because I don’t know what it is or where he’s taking me but then he whispers, “It’s okay, Katniss. Don’t fight it. Just trust me. Burn for me, honey.”

His thumb brushes over the little bundle of nerves as his finger quirks and then the tension is released and I am flying like one of my arrows as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me. It is like nothing I have ever experienced before and I want more. My hands move to his waist and then his hips and he hisses in a breath when my fingers brush over him. His hips flex and my name sounds like a warning. “I want you, Finnick,” I whisper. “I want all of you.”

His forehead drops to mine and he says, “It’s yours.” 

He settles himself between my thighs and his hands slide up against my palms and his fingers entwine with mine. His eyes never leave me as he presses up against me and then rocks into me with a series of slow, steady thrusts that give me time to adjust to him even though a part of me is screaming that I want it now, all of it, as deep as he can go. When he is fully seated, my hands tighten on his and he says, “Good?”

“Oh, God, Finnick. Please,” I say in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own. 

“Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” he asks with a smile and cuts off my reply with a kiss.

He begins to move and he maintains that slow, steady rhythm until my legs are wrapped around his waist and I am moving up to meet him. His breath begins to grow ragged and his kisses harder as he gradually speeds his pace, moving deeper and harder inside me as that tension grows inside of me again and demands even more. One of his hands leaves mine and slides under my hips to tilt them up and his head drops down on to my shoulder. I can feel the jagged puffs of air as he says my name again and again. It is more than I can bear and the tension snaps. He is forced to kiss me again to keep me from waking the others as I call his name. He buries himself inside me and I feel him go rigid as he groans into my mouth. I realize that his own tension has snapped and I put my arms around him as he collapses onto me, breathing heavily.

Sometime later, he rolls to his side and takes me with him. Our breathing has evened out and he presses his lips to my forehead. He sounds slightly nervous as he says, “So…better with someone you care about?”

“Much,” I tell him, nuzzling against his chest. “That was…wow.”

He gives a self-satisfied chuckle and squeezes me tightly. “I’m glad I could make you happy.”

“What happens now?” I ask, going to my elbow to look at him.

He tucks my hair and says, “We still have a few more days. You know the routine. They’ll get Gale back into shape and then there will be the interview and another party and then we’ll go home. We’ll see each other again on the victory tour when you come to Four with Gale. And you have a phone, right?” I nod. “So do I,” he says. “We’ll talk. As often as you want. It isn’t perfect but we can make it work if you want it to.”

“I do,” I tell him. “But what comes after that? We live in different districts. After this year’s victory tour, we’ll only see each other at the Games if you’re the mentor for that year. What kind of future is in this? I can’t leave my family and you can’t leave yours. So, what? We just see each other once a year for a few weeks?”

“We’ll figure it out, Katniss,” he says again. “If you’re right about President Snow, I’d be willing to bet that he’s going to make that easy on us as long as we keep him happy. I’ll volunteer to mentor every year. We know you’ll be here. We’ll find a way. Let’s not worry about it just yet. Let’s just enjoy the time we have and work on the details later.” 

“Okay,” I say and lean down to kiss him. 

He pulls me to his chest and whispers, “Just be happy, Katniss.”

That night, I dream that he is the one impaled on the spikes and I am the one standing over him. I wake up screaming and his arms are there to comfort me. I begin to dread the time when they aren’t anymore. For the first time, I don’t want to go home. Even if it means staying in the Capitol, I want to stay right here with him in this moment before I have to deal with Prim’s death and figuring out a way to keep President Snow happy while planning to kill him and wondering how many pieces will be left of my heart by the time it’s all said and done.


	24. Chapter 24

I’m not allowed to see Gale again until the interviews. It is the last thing we have to do before returning home. It is my last night with Finnick. I try not to think about that and instead to focus on Gale. He’s been through a lot and he needs the support. Haymitch and I do our best to coach him on the interview but he’s more sullen than usual and we don’t know if we succeed. 

This year, I’m walking out onto the stage with Haymitch and I’ll take a seat in the audience for Gale’s part. This year, I am the mentor who trained the victor, not the victor herself. If I’d thought that would spare me a load of personal questions, though, I was wrong. Caesar congratulates us on the win and asks our thoughts about particular moments in the Games. He’d already asked me about Prim’s death but he touches on it again to ask how it made me feel to see Gale get revenge for her. 

“Sweet,” I tell him honestly.

“It seems our girl on fire really is all grown up,” he says. 

“It happens to most of us eventually,” I say. 

“Always so cheeky,” he laughs, covering the venom in my words. I’m grateful to him because I can’t play the game, not where Prim is involved. He leans in again and says, “Speaking of growing up, have you thought any more about what we discussed the last time we were here? Was I right to think that at least one of the star-crossed lovers has found a way to change her stars?” I glance out at Finnick and he gives me a smile and a nod. I feel my cheeks heat and Caesar gives a knowing laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

“Yes, Caesar,” I say, smiling at Finnick. “There was one good thing that came out of these Games aside from getting Gale back. Prim’s last wish for me came true.”

“Well?” he says when he sees that I’m finished. “Tell us about it! Always so taciturn. Details, Katniss! We want details!”

I say, “Well…okay,” and he grins out at the crowd. “When I first met Finnick, I’ll admit I didn’t really like him much.”

“No!” exclaims Caesar while Finnick gives me his teasing pained look again. “Why ever not?”

I nod and say, “He’s pretty.”

“He’s pretty,” Caesar repeats slowly as if he’s trying to figure out my reasoning. “Okay…”

I give him a grin and say, “Come on, Caesar. You know I don’t like competition.”

“I know you wipe it out,” he says. 

“Exactly,” I tell him and he laughs. “So when we decided to team up, it wasn’t because of any fondness for him on my part. But that changed. He was there for me during everything and I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

The moment I see Snow on the interview stage, I can tell he isn’t happy. This time, though, it doesn’t seem to be directed at me. It’s aimed squarely at Gale and I don’t know why. I glance over at Haymitch and know that he sees it, too, and is just as bewildered as I am. Somehow, we make it through the rest of the interview and I am able to pull Gale up onto the roof. It is the first time I’ve been alone with him since the Games and his arms go around me and we both begin to cry when he passes me my mockingjay pin.

I shove down my grief and pull back so that I can look at him and say, “Gale, why is President Snow angry with you? What don’t I know?”

His face grows hard and he says coldly, “Probably because I told him I was going to kill him, too.”

“You did what?” I shout and then look around wildly for the cameras. I lower my voice. “What did you just say?”

“I told Snow I was going to kill him,” he repeats and then I realize what it was that he’d said as the last cannon fired. It wasn’t, _Now, let’s go._ It was, _You’re next, Snow._ I am suddenly more terrified than I have ever been.

“Gale,” I say, horrified. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you know why you and Prim were thrown into that arena in the first place? You were there to punish me for the berries! He doesn’t kill you. He kills the people you love! He kills your family! Damn it, Gale, he’s going to wipe out our entire district for that!”

I spin on my heel and storm off of the roof. I am furious. Everything I have done has been for nothing. I can’t go to my quarters where my team will be waiting. Instead, I push the button for Four and let the elevator take me down. Finnick and Annie look up when I come in and Finnick gets up and comes to me. “What happened?” he asked.

“Gale just signed our death warrants,” I whisper angrily. I put my lips to his ear and breathe out what Gale just told me. 

He draws back and there’s real fear in his eyes. He is afraid, but not for himself. No, his death would mean nothing to Gale. It is my life that is once more in jeopardy. We are all entwined together, layer upon layer of connections that mean a ripple in one person’s life can create a wave that drowns another who is seemingly unrelated. There is no escape. There is no going back. There is only one way forward, one way that will allow us to survive.


End file.
